


I Thought I Was Alive

by Drawing_By_Day



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Love Confessions, M/M, Sad, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2019-10-29 14:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17809790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drawing_By_Day/pseuds/Drawing_By_Day
Summary: A young man without a clear direction in his life, Kieran has always been one to be brushed off to the side. He already knows he will never gain a sense of belonging anywhere, no matter how misleading some things are. There are just some constants that cannot be changed...





	1. Reminiscent of Previous Experiences

**Author's Note:**

> After reading a ton of wonderful Red Dead Redemption fanfics, I decided to create my own story. And of course I would focus of Kieran because why would you not? And also because there are not enough of them...Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

The blazing sun filtered through the leaves on a typical morning. Despite its burning effect upon skin, this was subdued by the strangely chilling winds blowing throughout the camp. Kieran sat on a rock, the smoothness of its surface betraying his backside with its uncomfortable nature and looked through the small collection of thick threes towards a beautiful landscape of mountains and valleys. Horseshoe Outlook was a beautiful position to be exposed to the greatest expression of country, especially when it came to the sunrises and sunsets. Kieran almost looked forward to them.

This was his one of his rare moments of utter tranquillity, if he could call it that. He was not the best with words, having never received any actual education; yet, he felt a total lack of his general paranoia and anxiety. The others of this camp also seemed pretty content with his isolated position from them, at least, that is what he presumed, since nobody questioned him on his inactivity.

He was never really one to connect with others, no matter who they were. Be it his former gang, the O’Driscolls, or the Van der Linde gang, two polar opposites; yet, both were so alike. Neither parties seemed to appreciate his presence amongst them, be it for his alleged smell, or his innate awkwardness. Kieran constantly blamed it on how he ever really knew how to communicate with others, especially when they consistently threatened him with his life for the most superficial reasons. He guessed that was why horses were a viable substitute for contact with the outside world; they understood him in one way or another.

He was alone in this world, and he deduced from when he was a youngster that that was how it was meant to be.

Besides, why would anyone want associate with a betrayer of his own people. As much as he despised the O’Driscolls for never truly accepting him and abandoning him, he was still part of their gang. Yet, it only took Bill threatening to castrate his balls off for him to reveal the location of one of the O’Driscolls’ campsites. He tried to justify it as revenge for his former gang’s lack of care, and he was very thankful that Dutch’s gang actually allowed him to remain with them, but he still felt weakness, if anything. He had no ability to stand up for himself, though he tried at times. It seemed everyone knew some strategy to bending him to their will. Yet the only person who could not control his will, seemingly was only himself.

Whilst Kieran was befuddled by his own mind - the sound of leaves rustling, wind lightly blowing and the occasional fly almost hypnotising him - he noticed abrupt movement to his far right. Out of his thoughts, he looked behind him, only to see Arthur Morgan, the very outlaw who drag his ass to his gang on that cold mountain, walking with large haystacks. He had been doing all the daily chores before anyone else got the chance, the physical toll upon him evident by his slightly reddened face and sweat running down his cheeks.

A familiar feeling swelled within Kieran. Warmth.

The first time he saw Arthur clearly, moments before being hogtied and stowed on the outlaw’s horse, he immediately noticed the two small scares etched on his chin. He also noticed those fierce blue and emerald eyes, a juxtaposition between coldness and warmth. It was then Kieran knew he was a dead man, how the older man’s expression was nothing warm, but intense and frightening. In that moment, the man was only a monster, a predator who captured his incompetent prey, and Kieran was scared.

However, following his official acceptance into the gang, thus leading to constant exposure to Arthur whenever he was in camp, Kieran became more aware of his presence. Most notably when he went into close proximity to him, generally when Arthur would walk by him while Kieran tended to the horses. Sometimes, on a rare occasion Arthur would grunt a small “hey” or “mornin’” to Kieran, to which Kieran would respond appropriately, sometimes a few octaves higher than he would have wanted, only to feel flustered and exhausted after.

At first, he was confused by these strange reactions he made because of Arthur, but it took a day or two of profusely scrubbing all the available saddles in camp for Kieran to realise.

He recalled when he was part of O’Driscolls gang, hanging along the outskirts of the camp, the winter’s gales not showing pity towards his lonely stature. Following his chores at the camp’s stable at dusk, he generally sat alone on an isolated collection of logs, getting a wide view of the camp and its inhabitants. The rest of the guys didn’t bother him on good days, leaving him to his little hobby of drinking a bottle of ridiculously bitter, strong beer while staring at one man.

He never talked to the guy. He never even knew his name, Kieran knew he hadn’t the guts to go up to him to ask such questions. Yet, after every day, he sat there and watch the man talking with his fellow comrades. He had a short, but minutely scruffy beard, and a strong build. He was the typical outlaw type, but that was it.

Kieran never knew anything more about the man other than that he seemed to love to drink, according to Kieran’s own observations. Every time he looked at the man, his chest ached for something. An unknown desire. Infatuation.

“… _With another man_ ,” Kieran thought while he sat on that log once. “ _Christ, what is wrong with me_?”

It was only on the fateful day Dutch’s gang infiltrated the campgrounds, Kieran saw in an instant what was inside the man he gazed time and time again - the fractured skull fragments and splatter of brains and bodily fluids escaped like a burst balloon.

Arthur Morgan was also the archetype outlaw, fitting in every way, physical and mental. The only difference was that Kieran now had a personality to match to that hardened, but somehow soft face.

Kieran realised he was now staring at empty space; the gunslinger having walked off to discuss some state of affairs with Dutch.

Shaking his head in self-loathe, the O’Driscoll boy stood up from his uncomfortable rock, his knee caps having somewhat locked a little.

He was never really a morning person, but when combined with the unnaturally intense sun, he felt truly lethargic. Nonetheless, he took a deep breath and continued with his long list of duties.

__

Night could not have arrived fast enough. Kieran was thoroughly done with the day’s events. Hosea and Arthur set out to run some errands for the camp, while everyone else continued to helped around the camp. In honesty, it was for the most part quite normal, that is, everyone seemed to be ignorant of his presence, but Bill seemed to be determined to give him some extra shit over the general amount.

“Oi, O’Driscoll,” the dim-witted brute called out. “What the ‘ell you thinkin’ of hanging around us?” Keiran immediately suspected the man was drunk, reinforced by the stench of alcohol.

“Get the fuck outta ‘ere. You ain’t one of us.”

Kieran first tried to laugh it off; his general response to anyone's comments towards him.

“You think this is funny, bud?” Bill pressed on. “Why the fuck you still ‘ere? Want me to burn off your balls for real this time?”

“U-uh…” Kirean was lost for words. He decided to ignore the intoxicated man and walk away. After all, drunk people said odd things all the time. But deep down, Kieran knew there was truth behind those words in spite of the alcohol’s influence.

“Let him be, Bill,” Mary-Beth stepped in.

Bill looked her way with a disorientated gaze, seemingly taking a moment to register her presence.

“Maarrry-Beth, whateva ya say,” he blurted, walking away, but not without almost tripping over his feet a few times.

“You alright?” Mary-Beth questioned, noticing Kieran’s tense nature. “What? Uh, yea. All good!” He gave a small smile, one that did not reach his eyes. The young woman seemed unconvinced, but she dismissed it and walked away as well, leaving the O’Driscoll to his thoughts once again.

Returning to the present, he sat alone at night at the corner of the camp, noticing the majority of the gang around a fire and chatting amongst themselves. It was these moments when he felt truly alone. He could just try to walk over there and join in the conversation, and he had tried once beforehand. However, he soon realised rather than joining the conversation, he became the topic of discussion, immediately shunned by others, or at the very least ignored. He can still vividly recall the scowls he received, namely from Bill and Javier.

From then on, he found his rightful place among the gang at the corner of its boundaries; a quite similar situation from his previous gang.

“ _Goddamn, you are pathetic, Kieran_ ,” he told himself, fiddling with his nails while looking up at the starry night above him. Only the insignificant light from those distant stars provided him with some comfort.

With no reason to continue festering in his own loneliness, he retreated into a sleep, hoping that tomorrow’s inevitable pain would just come and go once again.

\--

Kieran jolted with the sudden sound of horses galloping near to the camp, the sound of hurried shouting echoing through the cold mist surrounding the area. It was early morning, the first rays of sunlight filtering through the mist.

Kieran sat up and rubbed his yes hastily. His eyes were out of focus from the lack of meaningful sleep and the sounds of angry yelling rang in his eyes.

“Oh my God. What the hell happened here?” a woman’s voice shrilled, panic etched in her tone. No doubt it was Miss Grimshaw.

Another familiar voice, far hoarser and fiercer – Arthur’s – responded, equally panicked, but masked with professionalism and experience. “Those damn Pinkertons spotted us,” he remarked. “We tried to escape, but not without Hosea being shot in the shoulder.”

Kieran heard other members shuffle around to view the matter in question, a series of incredulous gasps scattering across the premise.

“Can one of ya goddamn fools get Dutch and Mr. Strauss?” Arthur bellowed. “He’s bleeding out!”

Kieran got up from his sitting position, his spine abruptly striking in pain. He really needs to find a more suitable sleeping area. That rock was going to be the death of him.

He walked towards the source of the issue and immediately took note of the seriousness of the issue. Hosea was being carried by Charles and Arthur by the shoulder towards an available cot. His eyes were lolling upwards while his body was visibly weakening. The steadily expanding red stain around his shoulder area provided an obvious reason why.

Arthur seemed very determined and focused with the task as hand, handling the situation without haste. At once, Kieran’s thoughts were hindered by the sound of a horse’s continuous cries in pain.

Hosea’s horse was wobbling on its legs, shaking profusely while its grey coat was stained with red blotches of blood flowing from a gaping wound in its front area. Silver Dollar had also been shot as well as its rider, visibly panicking and confused with the whole situation. Kieran’s heart panged with sympathy for the animal.

Without hesitation, Kieran moved over to the injured horse’s position, steadily approaching him with caution. Silver Dollar naturally began flailing wildly, afraid of the boy’s approaching figure. However, once the horse saw who it was, immediately relaxed and resorted to soft snorts.

“Hey boy, s’me,” Kieran said softly, putting both hand up while taking subtle steps forward. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

The horse calmed down completely, seeming to forget its life-threatening wound, which still trickled with blood.

“ _He is not going to last much longer_ ,” the O’Driscoll thought sombrely. “ _He needs medical attention_.”

Almost as if on cue, the horse’s buckling legs gave way and collapsed. Kieran gasped in shock. He promptly moved to the suffering animal’s side and began petting the horse. Silver Dollar’s eyes perked towards him, his eyes focusing on the boy’s as if its life was now in his hands.

Kieran did not know what to do. He was a stable boy while being with the O’Driscolls and knew quite a bit about horses and how to tend to their needs, but when it came to horse injuries, he had next to nothing to offer.

“I-I…I am sorry…,” he muttered to the horse, his eyes tearing. He always felt more with the horses than with the gang with both the O’Driscolls and Van der Linde gang, having that affinity to them. Seeing the horse whimper like it did was like watching a dear friend slowly lose grip on their life.

“Kieran.” A low voice reverberated through the boy’s eyes, leading him to jump in surprise before turning to the source of the voice.

Arthur’s towering figure, standing with his hands on his belt, stared down towards him. He gave off an intimidating aura Kieran could not ignore. For a moment, Kieran once again admired the way the morning light gleamed on the gunslinger’s irises, but then he was reminded of the ferocious demeanour of the pupils looking down to him.

“What you doing, boy?” he asked, his eye lingering a little to long onto the boy’s eye. It made Kieran shudder in fear. “You crying over a horse?”

Kieran was confused by the question until he felt hot tears roll down his cheek, running through his facial hair.

“Wha-what? N-no…just uh…” He continued to stutter, unable to form a coherent sentence whilst attempting to wipe away the tears, looking away in utter embarrassment.

Arthur seemed to ignore the boy, kneeling next to him to assess the horse’s condition. Placing a hand on the horse’s mane, he drew a deep sigh.

“He won’t make it,” he finally said after a few seconds. He followed with drawing his hunting knife.

“What are you gonna do?” Kieran asked, shocked. Arthur’s intentions were honest and humane, but the boy could not just let this happen. Silver Dollar continued to whine, weakness seemingly taking its toll on the animal. Instinctively, Kieran placed a hand on Arthur’s arm before realising what he was doing.

The outlaw turned to him, his expression stone and almost indifferent to the situation. “Get your hand off me, O’Driscoll. I am putting the poor fella outta his misery.”

“I-I know that, but…” Kieran withdrew his hand quickly, those damn tears welling in his eyes once again. “Isn’t there something else we can try?”

In response to his question, Arthur plunged the knife into Silver Dollar, the horse screeching hysterically for a moment, before stilling, almost as if it was in a sort of sleep.

Kieran choked a little and shuddered by the sudden action.

Arthur took out his knife from the horse and cleaned the knife with a cloth. He noticed Kieran’s stillness. He drew out another deep sigh.

“I’m sorry, Kieran,” he said in a low grumble, placing a hand on the boy’s shaking shoulders. “There was nothing we could do.”

Tears began flowing from Kieran’s eyes again, consistent this time. He then looked at Arthur, whose generally stoic nature being subdued for a moment, expressing a sort of…pity for the boy. It was only for a moment, before his hardened expression returned and with one last pat on Kieran’s shoulder, stood up and walked away. Deep down, Kieran wished he stayed longer.

Unable to look at the corpse of Silver Dollar any longer, Kieran stood up and wiped his eyes profusely with the sleeve of his coat. By now they were all red and puffy. Typical. At once, he walked to the other horses hitched at the other end of the camp, hoping his chores would block out any sudden thoughts racing through his mind.

He wished he could do more for this camp. He wished he could really find a place here. A home. A family. Something.

“ _But all I managed to do was fuckin’ cry_ ,” he muttered to himself before beginning the day.

 


	2. A Great Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone at the campfire...with another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Hope you all are well. Here is another chapter for anyone who cares. Enjoy!

In a way, the chores were a great distraction from everything around him. After all, it is not like he had anything better to do during his day. He simply placed double the effort into his work and tried his best to think about anything else than the chore in front of him.

Fortunately, everyone seemed not that much in the mood for anything today after the morning’s events, which brought forth more chores, thus more distractions, along with less hassling from Bill and such.

Directly after Arthur and injured Hosea’s return, a few volunteered to quickly bury Silver dollar in a shallow grave, which took a copious amount of effort to achieve, though was successful ultimately. After that, everyone was relatively quiet.

It wasn’t until taking at least 20 buckets of water to refill the available tubs that someone decided to entertain themselves by means of taunting Kieran. A small pebble suddenly hit Kieran’s head, causing him to turn around, only to receive another to his jaw.

“Ugh, cut out that!” he cried out, only to see little Jack continuing to throw them at him. “What are ya doing?” Despite his cries in pain, the young boy continued to throw them, hitting all sorts of areas on Kieran’s body.

“Hey, HEY!” A voice called. “Jack, you stop that at once and leave him alone!” Abigail came over and tugged on the boy.

“But he’s an O’Driscoll!” Jack retaliated.

“That is enough! I said leave him alone.”

Both walked away, the boy squirming under his mother’s grip.

Kieran stood there, almost aloof. He did not know how to react. At once, tears came again to his eyes, stinging them.

He hastily placed the buckets, already half empty from his shaking grip, to the side and walked off to the scout campfire, a place of far enough away from everyone else. While sitting there, legs hugged by his arms, he watched as the fire crackling lightly. The smell of smoke was almost too intense, but he honestly did not care at the moment.

The sound of the fire crackling, while the soft breeze diffused the near omnipresent scent of smoke around Kieran, brought a small illusion of comfort. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he blocked out the world’s chaos.

It was a good few minutes of sitting there before he heard footsteps behind him, heavy and steady in nature. Kieran cringed in anger. Goddamn Bill. To his side, he saw the man’s arms reaching down to pour himself a cup of coffee. What the hell did he want? He knew he did not stand a chance, but if Bill was going to piss him off, he will try his best to punch that man in the stupid face. How he wish he could…

“ _Hang on a minute…”_ Kieran thought. The grey sunlight filtering across the clouds and spreading across the sky obscured the boy’s vision. It was in fact Arthur who was beside him, silently drinking his coffee while he stood next to Kieran. He seemed to be minding his own business, wearing his typical long coat, one hand on his gun belt.

Kieran suspected Arthur noticed him staring for a bit longer than simple acknowledgement and looked his way, those eyes once again causing Kieran’s stomach to twist in all sorts of ways.

Arthur appeared a bit uncomfortable, his eyes looking side-to-side.

“Uh…what you lookin’ at, Boy?” he muttered, taking another sip of his coffee.

The boy suddenly shook his head and looked in front him, sensing a subtle blush crawling on his cheeks. ‘S-sorry, sir. Just a little outta it, is all.” Once again, his awkward nature brought out the worst in him.

Arthur just grunted before sitting down next to Kieran, though there being at least a foot of space between them. Kieran stiffened and focused intently on the fire, unable to thinking clearly. Arthur was right there. What was the boy meant to do?

“Had a cup of coffee yet?” the Gunslinger asked abruptly, resulting in Kieran jumping at the sound. Arthur just looked at him, a somewhat amused expression hidden upon his face.

“Uh, not yet, I guess.” Kieran felt really cold all of the sudden and shivered, nervous with how much of a fool he must sound like and appear right now. “Actually, I…uh…don’t have a cup or anythin’ to drink from.”

“What you mean?” Arthur gave him an incredulous glance, before rummaging through his satchel, searching through it before pulling out a sturdy tin cup. He then poured some coffee into it before handing to the O’Driscoll boy.

“Uh, t-thank you, Arthur.” He immediately took advantage of the warmth radiating from the cup. The coffee was bitter and a little too strong for his liking, but since his throat was beyond dry, he was quite content at that moment.

Arthur grunted again in response, looking into the fire. Kieran knew Arthur was one to get out of his way to provide for the gang’s individual needs, but the O’Driscoll boy would have never suspected the man’s kindness would extend to him. It was an odd feeling, to be acknowledged by Arthur in that way.

After a few moments of silence between them, Kieran thought maybe Arthur was waiting for him to initiate a bit of small talk. He could not maintain a conversation with anyone, especially anything above the general “hello, how are you” standard.

“So,” Kieran began, gulping a bit in the process. “How is Hosea holding up?”

Arthur seemed surprised by the attempt at conversation, his eyebrows rising a little.

“He will be just fine,” he answered, continuing to stare at the fire while scratching his knee. “It was just a flesh wound after all. Look much worse than it actually was.”

“That is good ta hear then,” Kieran said, attempting a small smile. “He really looked kinda bad, but I guess misleading things tend to confused the best of us, huh?”

Kieran had no idea what he was saying, and it made him suddenly feel sick in the stomach. He tended to ramble on when he was nervous.

To his surprise, Arthur just gave a light chuckle. “Well, I guess that is one way to put it.”

He turned his head to face Kieran, the beginnings of a smile appearing. Kieran coldness immediately shifted to warmth and he suddenly began profusely blushing, looking away hoping the man did not see anything. He presumed he didn’t, since Arthur did not react otherwise.

“U-uh, yeah,” is all Kieran could say. “Um, so what ya gonna do for a horse replacement?”

Arthur looked at him again. His expression was something Kieran could not understand or put into any category.

“Y-you know, a replacement for…Silver Dollar?”

Arthur looked ahead of him, his mouth opening slightly. “Well, I guess I will just go to a stable and see if there are any decent horses available. Hosea ain’t as picky as some of the other fellas around here with his horse.”

Kieran nodded, not really knowing what else he could say to continue this trivial conversation.

“In the meantime,” Arthur continued, stretching his neck, his bones making a little pop sound. “I need to continue my hunting trip since we had to ditch the deer we shot when those damn Pinkertons found us.”

“Ah, that’s a shame,” Kieran remarked. “Yeah, it is,” Arthur agreed, clearing his throat.

They continued to sit there for a moment until Kieran had a little thought. This…this was his chance to have some real use for the camp, to really contribute. The sudden awareness of the opportunity resulted in a debate of hesitation within his mind.

“Um…Arthur,” he began, his heart pounding in his chest and ears. He just had to have some faith. “Mmm hm?” responded the outlaw, gazing over towards the boy, those eyes somehow becoming more appealing than ever before.

“Um…I was just wonderin’…um…you h-had a partner and all during ya hunting trip…a-and…uh…um…” He never stumbled this much with his words.

“Spit it out, wouldya!” Arthur growled in his low voice, though seemingly out of habit rather than hostility.

Kieran took a deep breath. “H-how ‘bout I go with you? I could maybe be a little helpful.”

Arthur looked at him and stilled. His expression was once again unreadable, but this time, it began to worry Kieran.

After a few moments of deadly silence, the older man spoke in a low, but very cautious voice. Almost like a warning.

“I don’t need an O’Driscoll to get in the way.” He closed his eyes for a moment.

“Besides, I have seen you with a gun and I will say I ain’t impressed at all. You’d scare away the animals before we’d even get a chance.”

Something switched off in the younger man’s heart. He felt that familiar coldness return, along with the sickness in his gut.

“Oh…” Kieran muttered. “T-that’s alright, then.” He said that with a slight smile, though he had to muster up all his will to maintain a steady composure.

Arthur continued to look at him for a moment, Kieran unsure what the older man was thinking. He stood up, quickly wiping away any dirt collected on his clothes and disposed of the remains of his coffee on the ground beneath. And without any dismissal, he walked off.

Kieran remained alone at that campfire for a few more minutes, glad no one was near enough to see the small trickle of tears rolling down his cheeks. The scent of campfires overwhelmed him once more, while the clouds littering across the sky seemed to thicken. The world somehow becoming a shade darker. While returning to hugging his slender legs, coldness overcoming his senses, he continued to ponder over how pathetic he really was after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Kieran. :( Hope you liked it. I would deeply appreciate it if you would leave a comment and tell me your thoughts or whatever. Thank you!


	3. A Slight Change of Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kieran awakens only to be forced to set out with the one person he's been trying to avoid, to continue an unfinished hunting trip...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya. I hope you are doing well and all. So I was playing rdr2 and arrived at a point where they all have a party and I just felt sorry for Kieran once again, sitting on the side while everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves. :(
> 
> Anyway, I also really hope you enjoy this chapter!

The morning of the next day arrived quicker than expected. The rest of the previous day went pass as if there were no restrictions, Kieran eventually continuing with his chores. He felt as if he was cursed; every direction he looked Arthur happened to be there, and their eyes always eventually met. But unlike previous experiences, the outlaw also seemed adamant about looking in any other direction and suddenly having some other odd job to complete. The awkwardness was mutual to the greatest extent.

Honestly, Kieran did not know his infatuation with another man could have this much of a toll on him. He knew he liked Arthur physically, but it was only occasionally when he felt a least a little connected with him on an emotional level.

He also knew, though, that as a natural consequence of his liking to Arthur, every act of kindness the older man would show would automatically be interpreted by Kieran as an intention for a more intimate relationship or a ‘sign’ of mutual feelings. This much Kieran knew, but it did not weaken the hurt that stirred within him.

As such, he thought it wise to stay away from the man for at least a little while, hoping whatever happened at that campfire would be forgotten soon enough. He was an idiot for suggesting such a thing? And to think he felt brave and hopeful for a moment. Idiot.

This early morning was similar to the last, the mist still heavy and cold to touch. Kieran was phasing in and out of his dreams.

Though distant and seeming detached from reality, he felt a constant point of contact on his shoulder. It was steady and constant.

“Kieran,” a voice materialised. Kieran heard that voice again. It was him. Of course it was. Who else would be invading his dreams if it weren’t Arthur. That man. Damn him. Why was he so strange and intimidating; yet, so perfect. Kieran would never know.

He suddenly felt a sharp jab on his shoulder and yelped, his eyes opening at once.

“Oi, Kieran!” Arthur whispered, standing above Kieran at his sleeping spot. “Get the hell up and get ready. We are goin’ soon.”

He was delirious, unsure if his dream decided to expand into his reality. After all, his mind would have made a pretty decent depiction of Arthur; a common ramification of infatuation. And besides, why would Arthur purposely talk to him after their little conversation by the fire.

“Wha-what do ya mean?” He blurted out sluggishly. His eyes burned, begging to be closed again and fall back into subconsciousness.

“No questions, O’Driscoll boy,” Arthur seethed, walking away from him. “You better be by the horses in five.”

Kieran stood up, his feeble bones aching in pain once again, reminding him of his sad excuse of a ‘bed’. After a quick stretch, each joint responding with a satisfying crack, Kieran felt somewhat more awake, relieving some tension within his body. With a final wipe of his clothes, the dust particles scattering across his feet in an almost ethereal fashion, he began walking towards the nearest tub of water.

While walking, ensuring his footing did not disturb other, he heard a collection of snores and midnight crickets, echoing across the landscape in almost a chorus fashion.

He reached a tub of clean water, dunking his hands in it to splash his face. The water, freezing in contrast to the already cold, misty air, led the boy to gasp and shiver violently, though the refreshing sensation subdued his discomfort.

Having no belongings to call his own, except that tin cup Arthur gave him, he set off towards the horses, already seeing Arthur mounted on his horse, his rifle and bow stowed to his sides. The man seemed to be invested into a brown leathered book, his pencil moving across the current page with unmatched proficiency and focus. Kieran pondered over what the man could be writing, or perhaps even drawing, judging by the spontaneous directions of his pencil.

Kieran noted many a time in the past when he would catch the gunslinger sketching away in that journal of his, his mind seemingly in its own personal reality; a second depiction of the life he possessed. It surprised Kieran when he noticed the artistic side of the man. After all, his first impressions were highly misleading. Though it seemed the man was seemed severely secretive of that side and ensured with all his might that others could not attain more than an acknowledgement at what he was doing inside that book. Kieran could not help but smile when he thought of the time when Arthur blushed when Mary-Beth requested, practically begged, to read his journal. If only Kieran had some talent in the arts to distract him when he had time to spare.

Reaching his horse, Branwen’s was already prepared with supplies and a rifle. With only the cup to pack in his stowed satchel, Kieran appreciated the organisation.

“Um…” Kieran began, Arthur snapping his journal shut and promptly placing it back in his satchel. “Thanks for all the supplies, but where are we going?”

“Goin’ hunting,” Arthur answered briskly, looking ahead. “Ready ta go?”

“Uh…yeah.”

Arthur grunted in his usual fashion and at once both of them set off with their horses through the morning’s constant mist.

\--

Kieran must have forgotten the sensation of cool wind blowing his face. Every breath almost sucked out of him, his eyes watering with the exposure to the air. It was exhilarating to say the least. He must have been locked up in that camp for far too long. Watching the fog around him flowing away into spirals was mesmerising. Each gallop from his horse’s hooves beat simultaneously with his heart beat, the sense of freedom overwhelming.

Arthur and his horse were directly ahead, though there seemed to be an intangible separation between them. Kieran felt it.

After an hour or so of silent riding, exiting out of a small forest with towering pine trees, Kieran spotted a small herd of deer, their graceful bodies swiftly moving through the field to the side.

“H-hey, how about those deer over there?” he suggested shyly, his voice filling the dead silence evoking an out of place atmosphere.

“Nah, too small,” Arthur muttered. “It’d be a waste of time.”

Kieran looked back to the deer, the animals fleeing from their presence. Their bodies did seem absent of fat; merely bodies of skin and bone. He wondered if they were searching for food as well, having not eaten in days.

“So what do you wanna find instead?” A protruding branch from a tree forced the young man to duck, missing his eyes by mere inches.

Arthur seemed to have noticed, giving him a quick glance.

“Alright?”

“Wha-oh…yeah.” Kieran was grateful that his blush would be unseen by the outlaw.

“Before those damn Pinkertons got in the way, Hosea and I spotted a few beautiful deer, even shot one like I said before, before we haddta discard it,” Arthur said, answering the question. “Hope to catch one or two for a good meal. Maybe even a few turkeys along the way.”

“Oh! I saw a few turkeys a while ago,” Kieran exclaimed, his voice hopeful.

Arthur gave him an unimpressed glance.

“Really now?” he praised, his sarcastic tone digging away Kieran’s self-esteem. “Ain’t that something. Good job, O’Driscoll boy!”

Kieran hang his head low, feeling an intense pang of embarrassment. “That ain’t funny,” he mumbled, yet the silence of their surroundings carried his voice through the mist.

“Oh, come on now,” Arthur chuckled. “I’m just needling ya.”

Kieran continued to remain silent. The gunslinger in front of him did not seem to mind the conversation’s conclusion.

The sunlight’s creeping presence illustrated gleaming rays through the dissipating fog, creating a series of patterns that Arthur and Kieran’s horses broke through. Kieran looked towards the sun itself and saw the sky painted with transitions of the reddest reds to the warmest oranges. Breathtaking. He really needed to get out of camp more.

“We will be reaching a nearby town soon,” Arthur informed, slowing down slightly to be adjacent to Branwen. “I need to get some ammo and arrows. You can stay with the horses or grab anything you need yourself.”

Kieran nodded, unsure of how to respond. Last time he was in a town, he had been with the O’Driscoll gang, and it involved more murdering than purchasing goods like civilised folk...if you could call Arthur and him 'civilised'.

“Okay, Arthur,” he finally said, looking to his side, the sunrise’s breathtaking nature paling against the man blocking its view.

\--

The town itself, Rhodes, was a quiet settlement. Kieran faintly recalled going there a few times with his mother when he was a child, but those years were long gone. He really missed those days, when everything was so simple and clear. And happy.

“Okay, here we are,” Arthur announced, forcing Kieran out of his nostalgic thoughts. Reaching the gunsmith, Arthur and Kieran hitched their horses, Kieran giving Branwen a celery stick he found in his stowed supplies.

He began following Arthur into the gunsmith, the older man taking off his hat for a moment to run his hands through his own hair. He then looked behind him, those eyes once again looking towards Kieran.

“I said you can go to the general store or somethin’,” he explained. “Don’t hafta follow me.”

Kieran’s stomach began filling with butterflies. “Oh…A-ah…Yeah, I just…” Kieran looked away for a moment. He had no need to go anywhere else but where the gunslinger was, and he honestly did not want it any other way. “…Also need some ammo and stuff.” He was a terrible liar.

Arthur gave him that unreadable look. “All yer guns are fully loaded though.”

“Oh,” Kieran’s face flushed with red again. “Just need some arrows and stuff.”

The gunslinger just looked at him again and gave a light-hearted chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, O’Driscoll.”

Kieran took note of the embarrassing fact he did not have a bow. Idiot.

Walking in, he noticed the vast collection of weapons lined up, from the most basic styles of rifles to the most extravagant and, in Kieran’s perspective, a little overkill and pretentious.

Arthur began consulting with the shopkeeper, keeping his sentences brief and concise. Kieran decided to occupy his time with staring at the arrows, hoping to maintain any dignity he retained after his pitiful attempts at lies.

After a few more moments, he quickly lost interest in this and invested interest into the glinting sunlight shining through windows. A simple pleasure, but Kieran always appreciated how the yellow almost made him feel so content, despite having no other reason to.

“What yer doing?” Arthur was behind him, looking over the same patch of sunlight on the store’s wall. Kieran must have been staring for a little to long, escaping his trance.

“Uh, just passing time,” he answered. “S-So you finished?”

“Yeah, just bought more ammo for my rifle and some arrows like I said,” the outlaw responded, pulling out his pistol. “Also got a lil’ interesting with this, adding varnish and all ‘cause why the hell not.” The gun had a sleeker look to it, along with a small cursive-style engraving of the letter ‘A’ and ‘M’, presumably initials.

Kieran laughed, smiling at how goofy the generally intimidating outlaw suddenly appeared, prideful of his own gun. He seemed to have brought forth a carefree and down-to-earth version of himself.

The man took note of Kieran’s amusement and glared at him, leading the boy to stop abruptly. Just like that, the outlaw can transition from an almost cheerful fellow, to a threating predator.

“I really like it,” Kieran finally muttered, unable to look at Arthur. ‘A nice touch, yeah.”

“Well…thanks,” Arthur grumbled back, walking past him towards the gunsmith’s exit. “Though if ya think about laughing again, you’ll really like this gun when a bullet goes between those eyes o’ yers.”

Kieran gulped a little, unsure how to respond.

“You hungry?” Arthur questioned suddenly.

Kieran look at the Arthur, hopeful and his stomach growling in response. “Yes, sir. Really. I guess this town’s saloon serves decent meal.”

“Great,” the man said, walking out. “I’m leaving town now.”

“Hey!” Kieran exclaimed, following him and feeling the fresh breeze upon his face. “I said I was hungry.”

“Okay then,” Arthur replied incredulously. “Feed yourself. I ain’t yer daddy.” Once outside, he mounted his horse. Kieran followed, mounting Branwen, who twitched a little in surprise by the sudden weight in his back.

Kieran’s stomach began grumbling again, aching his insides. That man was really something else.

“ _Asshole_ ,” Kieran thought, blinded by hunger and irritation.

Before Arthur set off, he turned to the younger man.

“Hey, O’Driscoll,” he alerted. Kieran gazed his way in an unimpressed manner, only to find Arthur throw him a can of strawberries. He caught the can, but not before fumbling with it and almost falling off his horse. He hadn’t enjoyed the treat of pure sweetness in ages.

“Enjoy,” Arthur said, a small smile hiding among his stoic expression.

“T-Thank you,” Kieran muttered, almost hugging the can to his chest, awaiting in anticipation to feel that delicate sweetness upon his tongue. He almost felt excited, like a little kid.

Hastily opening the can, he took the first bite of the preserved strawberries and almost gasped at the rich flavour. It was the best thing he ever had eaten, or at least this was pure gold compared to the mundane stew Mr. Pearson always created for the camp. That man needed some creativity…and needed to learn a thing or two about the wonders of herbs.

After a minute of him eating, he discarded the can, noticing Arthur was patiently waiting for him, at least occupied enough with his journal that he seemed fine with expressing a little patience. Closing and packing it away, he encouraged his horse to begin trotting, to which Kieran follow shortly after.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think? Is Arthur finally being a little, little less of a jerk to Kieran out of kindness, or is there something more here? Or not? Please tell me any of your thoughts and feedback! Thank you for reading!


	4. Alone with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having settled down for the night during their hunting trip, Kieran and Arthur share between themselves a fine bottle of whiskey...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Glad to see you again! I hope you are doing just fine. This chapter is hopefully a good length for all of you. I actually will be starting university soon, so I am hoping to at least write most of this story before that comes to be. Also, I'm real nervous for it as well. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

The two outlaws had been passing through a large forest for hours at most since their stop at Rhodes, making quick stops along the way around rivers to refill water canisters and provide some cool down for their respective horses. The last afternoon sun radiated intense heat on Kieran’s back, the black nature of his coat readily absorbing the heat. His thighs constantly rubbing against the saddle between him caused great discomfort. He was becoming increasingly lethargic, which could only suggest what poor Branwen was feeling right now.

“Don’t worry,” Kieran soothed, patting the horse’s side. The horse breathed raggedly, though maintaining a steady pace with Arthur’s horse a little up ahead. “We will stop again soon.”

There was a constant silence between Kieran and Arthur, the younger man still debating if it was a comfortable or awkward silence. In spite of everything, Kieran deduced that Arthur did not offer much when it came for conversations, a quality common between both of them. Though he always had something to say when prompted, he was never to really begin meaningful conversations.

The energy and satisfaction those strawberries provided only lasted for an hour before Kieran needed something more. During each stop, Arthur shared dried meat and other preserved foods with Kieran whilst having a quick smoke, both of them eating in silence with Kieran’s occasional exclamation on how it had been so long since he tasted something as simple as heavily salted meat:

“I miss just eating out here, doing nothin’,” he said lazily on a log with Arthur to the side of him.

“Yeah, me as well.” The older man said between his puffs of smoke.

It was not until twilight when Arthur decided they should call it a night and set a camp. The stars were on the verge of appearance whilst the sun’s rays still grip onto the last of the Earth’s atmosphere, displaying the deepest violets and blues.

Reaching a small clearing in the forest between thick and thin trees, Arthur dismounted his horse in a fluid motion, Kieran virtually falling off his horse in comparison. Both of them hitched their horses on surrounding trees, giving a

“Okay then,” Arthur began. “You can handle the fire and I’ll set up the tents.” Kieran jumped a little at that but nodded. As the older man walked off, Kieran began collecting scattered twigs and thicker branches. In truth, he had little experience with starting campfires or camping in general, usually relying on other’s skilful hands while he was brushed aside.

After a few minutes of clearing a small circle in the dirt and stacking the sticks together with crouching, he lit an available match and tried igniting the sticks, but the flame was just not spreading. This was almost too embarrassing. Kieran was relived hat Arthur was too preoccupied with erecting those tents to take note of the boy’s pitiful attempts.

He heard snickering behind him and rotated to only see Arthur standing his hands at his gun belt, watching Kieran humiliate himself. Behind the gunslinger were two separate tents, all set and ready.

Kieran began blushing profusely and looked back at should have been an adequate campfire.  


“You are one sad fella, aren’tcha?” Arthur taunted. “Can’t even start a fire to save ya life?”

Kieran continued to stare at the inactive campfire, unable to register anything except for the familiar emotions of worthlessness residing in his mind.

He felt warmth on his back at once.

He saw in his peripheral vision the outlaw kneeling beside him, one of his fingers running across the campfire wood.

“It’s too wet to be flammable,” he explained. “Wait right here.”

After a few moments, he returned with a bundle of wood and sticks, replacing Kieran’s “masterpiece” with his own. After another minute of setting up passed, he gave Kieran a match.

“You do the honors,” he said simply.

Kieran shyly took the match and lit it, placing it in the campfire. At once, the small twigs began lighting up.

“Ya see,” Arthur praised, patting the younger man’s back. “Not that hard, huh?”

Kieran gave a quick, shy laugh. He looked at Arthur, who gave him a warm smile.

Both of them sat down by the fire, the sound of fire crackling and the night crickets chirping creating a calming atmosphere. The sun’s light was fully concealed by the Earth, the scattered and abundant stars taking its place. The moon was shining as well, a crescent of beaming white light filtering through the towering trees.

In the glow of the fire’s warm light, Arthur pulled out a rather large bottle of whiskey, opening it with minute effort and taking a large swig. He drew out a satisfied sigh, staring up at the starry sky above.

A comfortable silence was present between Kieran and Arthur, or at least was until Kieran suddenly felt obliged to initiate a conversation with the man. Last time he did this, it did not go so well. However, he felt there was a softness within the older man that was not as prevalent the last time they did this. Besides, he needed to ask Arthur. The question had been burning at the back of his mind since the beginning of their hunting trip.

“So Arthur,” Kieran began, continuing to gaze at the hypnotizing nature of the dancing flames. His voice led the gunslinger to hum in response. “I have been meaning to ask for a while now, but…why did you bring me along with you for this trip?”

Arthur turned towards Kieran, his blue eyes juxtaposing almost magically against the warm glow of the fire. He took another swig of the bottle, before offering it to Kieran, must to the other man’s surprise.

“T-Thanks,” Kieran muttered, accepting the bottle before pouring the stinging, yet warm liquid down his dried throat. He immediately felt light-headed. Far too much.

“Woah, boy!” Arthur exclaimed, while Kieran began coughing violently. “Easy there. Didn’t know you were that much of a drinker.”

“I’m not,” Kieran spluttered, returning the bottle. “Actually, kinda the opposite.”

“So,” Arthur began. “To answer your question, Hosea actually suggested you tagging along after I told him his horse passed away.”

Kieran looked wide-eyed at Arthur in disbelief. “Hosea? But why?”

“Guess he appreciated your affection to his horse and commended your eagerness to find a place in the gang,” Arthur answered, having more whiskey. “He tends ta noticed thzose types o’ things.”

Kieran nodded, feeling the alcohol from before going straight to his head. Arthur took another drink of the half empty bottle before offering it again. Accepting it, Kieran drank some more, though at a more measured, conscientious pace.

The O’Driscoll was happy the co-leader of the gang considered him for such a task; yet, somewhere, Kieran felt disappointed that Arthur himself did not want Kieran there. Of course, though.

“Well,” Kieran responded. “I just thought it was strange for ya to want me to go after saying you ain’t impressed with my shootin’ skills and all, but that’s fair enough.”

Arthur looked towards the group for a moment before giving a long, low sigh.

“Though your shooting really is shit, that ain’t the only reason why I brought ya along, though,” Arthur muttered, his voice having a low, growling effect upon it. Kieran began to shiver at the sound of it.

“It…ain’t?” Kieran questioned, uncertain. He took another drink of the nearly empty whiskey before returning it to the older man. He felt more relaxed with all the alcohol circulating through his body, though the coolness of the night began creeping upon his skin, making him shiver.

“Well,” Arthur began, finishing the rest of the whiskey after one last swig, belching louding. “I think…I felt kinda bad after what I said to ya at that campfire.”

The outlaw closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I mean, you kinda piss me off sometimes with your whining and always being unsure of yerself, but…”

Kieran would have felt embarrassed or angry at the words the man was saying, but instead he did not know how to react.

“But?” he pressed on.

“Uh…it’s nothin’,” Arthur blurted, insinuating his oncoming tipsiness. “I don’t know.”

Kieran nodded, looking at the fire.

“I think I find ya pretty decent,” he said suddenly, looking at the boy.

Kieran looked back into those mesmerizing eyes, a small smile appearing his face. He wondered if the whiskey was making him say this. It obviously was, or else the older man would have said it earlier.

“Ha Thanks. Yer pretty decent as well,” reciprocated Kieran.

The air exponentially became colder with each passing moment, prickling Kieran’s skin through his thin coat. Arthur seemed to share the same sensation, shivering a little.

“Ya cold?” he asked.

Kieran looked at Arthur again, nodding slightly. “I guess a lil’.” He shivered as if on cue at once.

“Come ‘ere, then,” Arthur suggested, patting the ground next to him.

Kieran shivered again, though this time not due to the coldness, but out of sheer nervousness. Following the suggestion, he shuffled around the fire, closing the distance between the two men. Kieran felt his heartbeat increase rapidly, never having been this close to the man, or any other man for that matter. Their knees touched one another’s.

“Better?” Arthur questioned.

“Not really,” Kieran replied honestly, unsure of why he did. He was incredibly flustered after all.

“Alright, then,” Arthur chuckled, putting his arm around the boy and pulling him closer. Kieran gasped a little, unsure of everything at the moment. Arthur must have been more drunk than what was assumed. However, with the older man directly against his side with his arm around him, Kieran felt relatively warmer, and far more comfortable.

“Better now?” Arthur muttered, his words slightly slurred.

“U-Uh…y-yeah.”

“Glad ta hear”

They both sat there was a little while, Kieran’s mind beginning to become clouded with the whiskey consumed. Soon, Kieran felt brave enough to put his head on Arthur’s shoulder, breathing in the man’s mixed scent of smoke, pine, and sweat. It was almost overwhelming. He wanted to question why he was in such close proximity to this man, but his rationality was nullified by his utter contentment. Blame the alcohol.

“You ever liked someone before?” Arthur mumbled, his voice vibrating Kieran and leading his heart to thump vigorously once again.

“Mmm…y-yeah,” Kieran confessed, hesitant on how to answer.

“Hmm?” Arthur’s hand around him began caressing Kieran’s arm gently. “Who was it?”

“Uh…just a person.”

“O’ course, but who?”

“I…don’t know,” Kieran intended it as a dismissal of the truth, but quietly realized he was not even lying. After all, he recalled he never knew that O’Driscoll man’s name.

“Ya don’t know?” Arthur chuckled.

“Uh…M-Mary-Beth,” Keiran blurted out, satisfied with his lie.

“Her?” Kieran felt Arthur smile. “Well, I would have believed ya, but I know it ain’t right. Why didn’t you just answer when I asked then?”

“W-Wha? I don’t know what ya mean. I’m serious.”

“Who is it really?”

Kieran began to shake again. His mind raced with possible answers. “I-I never knew his name.”

“His?” Arthur looked ahead a moment before turning to the boy, forcing Kieran to look into the other man’s eyes, but this time the closeness allowing a greater observation of the beautiful cocktail of the speckles of green scattered within the ocean of blue. Truly beautiful. “So you liked a man?”

Kieran shook his head, a blush forming along his cheeks, more vibrant and intense than ever before. His mind was swelling with thoughts.

“I guess…” Kieran cursed his stupidity for not denying his queer affection. “But I only ever saw ‘im from afar.”

“Anyone else ya like now you are with us?” Arthur’s voice was a mere whisper, Kieran smelling the alcohol on his breath. They both drunk too much, and Kieran could not process reality at all. All he could think about was Arthur. Arthur Morgan. A sequential stream of thoughts plagued his mind begging him to do something else than just stare at the man like a fool.

“I…I…yes,” Kieran stuttered, his breathing becoming ragged. He felt like he was hyperventilating, the shortness of breath killing him.

“Hmm… _Who_?” Arthur whispered into Kieran’s ear, his low tone sending a sharp shiver like a shock of paralyzing electricity flowing down the younger man’s spine. Kieran shook with anticipation and uncertainty, while being pressed up against Arthur Morgan. He could not take it anymore. He tried so hard to maintain a steady composure…to hide his true feelings, but to no avail. Some things just cannot be stopped by will alone.

At once, time stopped completely. Kieran felt surround by Arthur’s presence and all his sense were overwhelmed. Without any other alternative of relief, for one moment in his life, he lost all his insecurities and fears. He moved towards the Arthur and pressed his lips onto the dried lips of the older man. His heart stopped. His mind stopped. Everything…everything. Just stopped.

The soft kiss lasted for a few seconds at most, before Kieran sensed a hand on his chest gently, but assertively push him away. Kieran’s lips lost contact with Arthur’s. For another moment, Kieran relished in the sensation of a kiss, the taste of whiskey and of the other’s unique taste.

But when Kieran opened his eyes again, he was greeted by Arthur’s shocked expression. Time returned to a normal pace, and the fear followed promptly.

Kieran backed away from the man, noticing Arthur’s arm was no longer around his shoulder. He eyes darted back at the fire’s glow, sensing a different aura among the camp; not one of warmth and comfort, but of tension and isolation.

“A…Arthur,” Keiran began, his heart thumping agonizingly. “I ain’t sure what happened just then…you whispering…you there…you…I-I…”

Kieran was unable to stop himself. Tears began falling down his cheeks, an extreme hollowness within his soul eating away the last remnants of his dignity.

“…I am sorry.” He began sobbing uncontrollably, unsure of anything while his head began pounding with pain. He felt nauseous.

It was quiet for an eternity of minutes, silence avoided by Kieran’s cries of pain and hurt. He could not believe he was in such a state in front of such a man. He did not anticipate this in anyway, but his nose was running, while his eyes became puffy and stung like hell.

He felt someone next to him again, an arm around him, rubbing his back in slow, circular motions.

“Kieran,” Arthur said, his voice more orientated than before.

The boy hastily wiped his eyes with his sleeves, looking back at the man.

“It is alright, boy. I ain’t angry or any of that crap.” The man’s reassurance stilled Kieran for a moment.

“I-I need to be honest with ya,” Arthur said, continuing his comforting back rubs between Kieran’s shoulder blades. “It wouldn’t be right or fair any other way.” He sat next to Kieran again.

“That…kiss was a little unexpected and…uh…yeah, unexpected, to say the least. Guess its cause I’ve never been kissed by another man before.” He gave a light chuckle, which Kieran joined in half-heartedly, tears still trickling down his face.

“But…” Arthur paused for a moment, articulating his words. “I don’t share the same feelings with ya. I…love woman. Its just what I’ve always like and right now I have my eyes on a lady, Mary, that I shoulda’ve been with a while ago, but the thing between us is a lil’ complicated. Despite this, she still has my heart.”

He took a deep breath.

“However, don’t think I ain’t appreciating your affection. I really do think you are a nice kid. Sure, I might be a bit o’ an ass sometimes, but I brought you along truly because I want you to feel like you belong with Dutch and the gang as much as anyone else.”

Kieran did not reply, unable to create a coherent response. He never thought his relationship with Arthur would nosedive like this. They both sat in silence for a few minutes, the awkwardness exponentially increasing in severity. Any other time, he would have could this moment a tranquil one and hold it in a special place in his heart, but right now he did not have the capacity to care for that shit.

“Well…I guess we should really call it a night,” Arthur said finally, patting Kieran’s back before standing up.

“Thank you, Arthur,” Kieran muttered, looking up at the man. “For…For being honest.”

“It’s alright, boy,” the outlaw said, giving him a warm smile. “I feel real drunk right now, but I wanna also say sorry for kinda leading yer on.”

“No, no,” Kieran dismissed the apology with a sort of smile which could never have reached his eyes. “I was just being my typical foolish self.”

Arthur smiled again, though this time his smile concealed a frown; a sense of pity and sympathy for the sitting boy.

“Well, see you in the morning, O’Driscoll,” Arthur said, stumbling towards his tent, utilizing every ounce of his hardly-functional motor skills to navigate himself. After some effort, he entered with the flaps falling behind him.

All alone in the fire’s glow, Kieran remained for good length of time in the darkness of the eerie forest, pondering over the events which just occurred. The crickets and occasional echo of animal calls filled the area with a sense of mystery. Arthur and Kieran's horses seemed to be content in each other company, but Kieran did not register or care for them or whatever was out there in that instant.

“ _You goddman fool_ ,” Kieran thought, seething with self-hatred.

Fed up with his own self-pity and deprecating mood, he went into his own set up tent and pulled over his thin blanket, his bedroll not preventing a protruding rock from digging into his back. Wracked with coldness and discomfort, Kieran exhausted himself into a lifeless sleep, floating amongst a vast array of nothingness. Quite similar to what real life was for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, you thought a little bit of alcohol was just going to reconcile everything between Kieran and Arthur. You thought wrong! (Sorry) But honestly, Arthur is a strange fellow, isn't he? Please tell me any thoughts you have on the story! Your comments really help encourage me and all! :) See you soon again!


	5. Morning with Black Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kieran, still conflicted with the previous night's emotions, is approached by the man in question...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. It turns out university isn't as wonderful as movies depict. How joyous. Nevertheless, that does not excuse this large period of inactivity because honestly I should be prioritising rdr2 fanficitions over my degree! Which is more important after all? (Hint: rdr2 ;) ) Well, hope you enjoy this and sorry about it taking so long.

Kieran woke up to the sound of footsteps outside of his tent. The coolness of the early morning hit him like a wall and he began shivering. The air was icy, like shards of crystals were floating through the wispy air.

The footsteps continued until they reached the entrance of Kieran’s tent. His heartbeat began to rise rapidly, until Arthur’s familiar head popped in.

“Hey Kieran,” he whispered, offering a warm smile, to which the younger man smiled back.

“W-what are you doing here?”

“Well, it’s real cold…and I guess body heat is one of the easiest ways to keep warm, don’tcha think?” Arthur invited himself inside, an illuminated lantern in his hand. Kieran sat up slightly, unsure of what to do.

“Arthur…” began Kieran.

“No, O’Driscoll,” Arthur retaliated quickly, a low growl apparent in his tone. “All I asking for is a bit o’ warmth.”

Kieran stared at the man, who stared back intently.

“Scoot.” He gestured for Kieran to move over his bed roll.

The tent was only wide enough to fit two people comfortably; yet, with Arthur next to him, Kieran felt an immense sense of claustrophobia. With a lantern by their side, Kieran sat up with his blanket around his body while Arthur sat opposite, his eyes all the more appealing.

“So you going to share the blanket,” questioned the older man, scratching is beard. “Or am I gonna have to make you?”

His words made Kieran shiver again, obvious to the other.

“Uh, okay.” Kieran gave part of the blanket to Arthur, but it was too late.

Without warning, Arthur grasped around the younger man’s wrist and pulled him in for a rough kiss. Kieran grabbed and part of Arthur to maintain his balance, finding the gunslinger’s waist to be most convenient. His mind froze and lost its ability to process anything another than the all too familiar sensation of Arthur’s lips on him. He wanted to hit the man, do anything to express some form of resistance and rage for him to taught Kieran with these conflicting emotions, but ultimately, he pressed into the man, strengthening the kiss’ intoxicating nature.

They both began panting, breaking away, only for Arthur to push Kieran down on his bedroll, but not before ripping off the man’s coat and shirt, leaving only his bare chest. Kieran shivered severely, though uncertainty and confusion prevented him from rationally covering himself with the blanket, let alone move at all.

“You gonna just stare at me, boy?” Arthur growled, a subtle smirk appearing on his face. “Or do ya wanna let me do all the work?”

“U-Uh…W-What do yer mean?” Keiran mumbled, Arthur’s low voice doing all sorts of wonders down in his lower region.

“What do ya think I mean, O’Driscoll?”

Arthur sat up before removing his coat, revealing his thin union shirt. He removed that as well in a swift motion, displaying his bare chest, well-defined muscles abundant all over.

Kieran began blushing profusely before realising what was going on.

“Y-you mean we are…to…to…” His voice stuttered uncontrollably, his body shaking in immense anticipation, the cold air not helping to calm him down.

“Yeah, boy,” Arthur confirmed in his thick and low voice with a menacing, yet charming smirk. “I’m gonna fuck you right here.”

Kieran gasped a little, his blush spreading across his whole face. His pants suddenly felt just too tight for him.

“Arthur…” he breathed.

“That’s right, boy,” Arthur encouraged, crawling to him whilst pinning his arms to his side. “You’d love to suck _it_ , wouldn’t ya?”

Kieran’s eyes opened in shock. What did the man mean? Surely not _that_. Kieran shuddered at what people would think of him if he did such an act.

“ _I mean, no one would know, right?”_ Kieran asked himself, knowing he already decided long before questioning himself.

He seemed to be unaware of his surroundings at the moment, that is, until he felt a patch of wetness along his neck. Arthur was on top of him, kissing every inch of his pale skin. Compared to Arthur, his physique was essentially a twig. The older man’s muscles twitched with each movement, his skin tanned from years of riding while exposed to the sun. Kieran ran a hand through the prevalent hair on Arthur’s chest, tracing along his pectorals towards his armpits.

The extreme intimacy, something which Kieran dreamed of for so long, was getting to his head. His cock was begging for attention while being neglected and rubbed against Kieran’s jeans.

Arthur let go of him and sat up, unbuckling his gun belt and jeans, revealing ultimately his thick cock.

Kieran stared at it intently, it bobbing up and down while Arthur removed his pants completely with minimal effort.

Arthur looked back at Kieran, while Kieran was almost intimidated by Arthur’s dick. It began throbbing, appearing to watch physical contact with him.

“You ready, boy?”

Kieran nodded like an idiot, his blushing leading his face to appear completely flushed red.

Arthur gave a small chuckle. “Open up wide.”

Kieran opened his mouth and watched as Arthur slide his dick in. The younger man had never done such an act before. The feeling of being so full in his mouth and throat while another’s dick throbbed in time to their heartbeat turned on Kieran with deep hunger.

“Oh fuck, boy,” Arthur breathed, a drawn out moan escaping his lips. “Yeah…That’s a good boy.”

Arthur gently stroked Kieran’s hair, humming contently, before he grabbed a fistful of his oily hair and pulled him in hard, forcing the boy to choke and gag, though completely unable to fight. His nose and buried in Arthur’s rather thick patch of hair at the base, taking a heady whiff of the man’s masculine, musky smell. The sensation, the smell, the starvation of oxygen, the moment, was so overwhelming, Kieran thought he was going to pass out any second.

“Oh fuck,” Arthur yelled, yanking Kieran’s hair painfully.

The O’Driscoll was unaware the man was this rough. He wondered if others, probably women, were treated this rough.

“That’s it Kieran,” Arthur breathed again, Kieran suddenly feeling brave enough to grasp the man’s ass cheeks. “Mmm, that’s it.”

It took a few more moments of quick and deep sucking before Arthur’s breaths became more ragged and his bursts of obscene encouragements became more frequent.

“Fuck, boy, here we go.” Kieran’s jaw began hurting as Arthur grew inside him, the older man’s mouth opened wide with his eyes closed. Kieran could not breath at all.

“OH SHIT!” Arthur bellowed, though more in pain than in pleasure. Kieran pulled away from the man’s deflating dick and looked up to see what he might have done wrong, only to notice Arthur was not there.

Kieran sat up from his bed, immediately noticing one of his hands were sticky with salvia while his mouth felt as if something was previously shoved down it. Moreover, his tent lacked the lantern Arthur allegedly brought, along with Arthur himself. His tent’s interior was instead shrouded in darkness, aside from the morning light seeping through the entrance.

“Fuck,” Kieran whispered in embarrassment, wiping away the salvia on his bedroll. “I dreamt all that?”

He blushed deeply again, or at least really this, ashamed his mind could even illustrate such images and notions. He did have very little experience in that area of intimacy, but for his subconsciousness to lust over a man to that extent…In truth, Kieran felt that his affection for Arthur extended far more than simple physical infatuation. But he just did not know how to handle all these abrupt emotions. He was still Kieran in the end.

“Shit. You moron, Morgan” a voice, Arthur’s, was audible outside his tent. Kieran was still clothed, thank goodness, thus decided to exit his tent without much haste.

If inside his tent was cold, outside was freezing, leading each breath to bring forth a sensation of discomfort, yet simultaneous freshness within the lungs. The temperature around these parts were rarely this cold, but then again, the climate had been relatively spontaneous as of recent times.

The O’Driscoll let out a small gasp at the sharpness of cold entering his system, bringing attention to him. Kneeling at the campfire, Arthur looked upon him, the palm of his hand presenting a large burn.

“Morning,” he grumbled before turning back to the fire.

After seeing that face once again, Kieran’s mind flashback to the vivid dream he experienced and shuddered.

He reluctantly walked up to the fireplace and knelt besides the gunslinger, ensuring there was an appropriate distance between them.

“Morning, Arthur,” Kieran responded, noticing the frost produced from his breath. “Sure is a cold morning this one, huh?” He wished his attempts for conversation could ease whatever was between them.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Arthur agreed, though evaluating his hand rather than looking at the younger man.

They were silent for a short while. His mind’s lewd depiction of the older man interfered with Arthur’s naturally gruff voice and image. Kieran wondered if Arthur would somehow find out about his dream, about what he did to Kieran in it.

“I made some coffee, if you want any,” Arthur muttered, gesturing to the coffee percolator next to the crackling fire. The abrupt rush of coffee aroma was noted by Kieran, his throat aching for some liquid sustenance.

“W-Wha- Oh…Yes please, sir,” the O’Driscoll peeped.

“Well, you still have that mug I gave ya?” Arthur asked, finally looking at Kieran.

“O-Oh, of course, Arthur.” Kieran stooded up and walked over to Branwen, who seemed content grazing on some lush green grass patching the moist ground beneath.

“Hey boy, how you’ve been doin’?” he whispered, lightly scratching a spot on the horse’s neck he knew the animal loved. He quickly looked through the contents of his saddle before attaining Arthur’s mug.

Returning to the campfire, Arthur opened his hand expectedly towards Kieran, requesting the mug.

“Here. Let me,” he offered in his usual low voice.

“Oh, thanks.” Kieran felt a familiar blush creep upon his cheeks once again, though Arthur payed no attention to it as he poured Kieran a warm and inviting cup of coffee.

“No problem.”

Kieran gladly took the hot cup from Arthur with both hands and hugged the beverage to his chest. The intense heat was perceived as general warmth by him. Without another moment, he raised the cup his chapped lips and took a sip. It burnt his tongue and was a bit too bitter for his liking, though he considered it a treat nonetheless. For once, he felt warm and cozy within himself.

Arthur drunk from his own cup as well, letting out a sigh of satisfaction. They both sat amidst the sounds of fire crackling, the call of early wildlife, and wind rustling through the trees. All which Kieran and Arthur considered a tranquil ambience.

“Um…I forgot to ask you beforehand, Arthur,” Kieran began after another gulp of coffee trailed down his throat. “But did you want your cup back after this?”

“Nah, consider it a gift, I guess,” Arthur responded, looking at the younger man again. “Bit of a strange fella if you didn’t own your own cup for the simple pleasure of a coffee.”

The outlaw chuckled lightly, Kieran doing the same.

“Thank you, Arthur. I know it sounds stupid, but I ain’t really received a gift in many a year…” Kieran looked down towards the ground, beginning to feel pathetic. “…I-It means a lot to me.”

“Eh, think nothing of it,” Arthur dismissed, waving his hand. Kieran nodded, exhaling deeply through his nose. He looked towards Arthur again, noticing him look at his hand again, observing the sizable burn mark.

“I-is yer hand alright?”

Arthur eyes glanced towards him, immediately hiding his injured hand from view.

“Oh this? It’s nothing. I’ve had much worse, O’Driscoll.”

“Again, I am no O’Driscoll, Arthur,” Kieran asserted weakly. “But you sure? It looks kinda painful.”

“’S fine,” Arthur mouth gave the notion of a smile, but only hinting its presence. “Nothing to be worried about, O’Driscoll.”

“Arthur! Would yer stop calling…” Kieran’s small outburst surprised both Arthur and himself. “Just…hmph…nevermind.”

Arthur chuckled again, more audibly this time. “You sure hate being called that, huh?”

“Who the hell wouldn’t?” Kieran admitted, grabbing a stick and poking at a glowing log having rolled from the campfire. “Damn O’Driscolls.”

“Oh damn,” Arthur laughed again. “I think Dutch and the rest of us are having quite the influence on ya.”

“It seems so, Arthur…” the NOT an O’Driscoll agreed. “It seems so.”

After another minute passing by, Arthur disposed of the sediments of coffee at the base of his cup. Kieran followed shortly after.

“So…Kieran,” Arthur began. The stern octave of his voice thickened the air immediately. Kieran suddenly felt his throat constrict and his heart rate quicken. He knew their light-hearted conversation was soon to take a wild turn to last night’s events. Here comes the belittling and reprimanding, not to the mention of shame.

“We ain’t too far from the spot we found those deer I was talking about.”

The sudden tension eased into relief. In truth, Kieran was so distracted by all the emotions he has gained over this trip he forgot the primary intention was to go hunting. Kieran cleared his throat.

“Really? Well that is a relief, ain’t it?”

“Mmmhm,” Arthur responded. “Though if we find them earlier than expected, don’t go start shooting without alerting me first. Remember, we want to catch these animals, not scared them off with lousy shooting.”

“H-hey!” Kieran exclaimed.

“I’m just messing with ya.” Arthur laughed at his own terrible humor. “Though maybe you should practise for a bit with yer aim. After a few hours of practising, I’m sure you’ll be decent.”

“U..um,” Kieran began. “Now?”

“Well, the sooner the better, but we can practise on some birds or somethin’.” Arthur stood up and stretched rather audibly, yawning along the way. His blue gaze filled Kieran’s heart with that shameful giddiness within him. “That alright with you?”

Kieran nodded slowly. “I-I think so.”

Arthur gave a small smile, something that Kieran wondered if many people got the chance to experience. “Well, let’s get going then.”

Rays of golden light bled through the narrow trees around them, emphasised by the gradually dissipating morning fog. The light painted Arthur’s figure with a…beautiful effect. It was hypnotising, to say the least. The gunslinger offered his hand, to which the younger man shyly accepted and was helped to his feet.

“Alright, Arthur…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope that was a decent chapter despite the wait. I hope all you smut-lovers weren't too disappointed with my first attempt at somewhat smut (despite it being a dream and all). Well, I really hope I see you in the next chapter and I really hope my lazy ass will actually post a next chapter in the next week or so (hopefully sooner). Thank you once again and please don't hesitate to leave a comment! It makes my day :)


	6. We'll Make a Gunslinger Outta You Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kieran practises with Arthur in preparation for the climax of their hunting trip...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo. How have you been doing? Sooo...My inactivity is actually a metaphor for how in spite of effort, things in life will wait for us until we are ready to continue again...In another words, I have been a lazy pain in the ass. Sorry
> 
> Today is actually my birthday! (Well "yesterday" here where I live - 27th April). So to celebrate turning 19 (hey, I am as old as Lenny), I decided to update my book because I have been thinking A LOT about Arthur and Red Dead Redemption II. Like a lot (like you guys). Anyway, hope you enjoy.

A violent bang echoed through the small clearing near the two outlaws’ packed away campsite. It was a beautiful afternoon, the weather improving drastically over the course of a few hours, the once frosty air replaced by the glittering sunlight which filtered through rustling leaves. A temperate breeze blew steadily. Greasy black hair obstructing his view, Kieran put his free strands of hair behind his ear. With a small sigh, disappointment etched into his vocals, he aligned his revolver again. His eyes gleaming in the golden light, he pulled the trigger. Missed.

The unforgiving afternoon sun was subtly burning Kieran’s skin all over, his shirt damp with sweat. The modest breeze failed to provide relief. Once again, he reloaded his revolver and attempted to fire at a few makeshift targets Arthur so kindly set up for him. A miss again.

A familiar wheezing laughter was heard behind him, becoming an awful pattern of the young man firing his gun, missing the allegedly unmissable target in front of him, followed by Arthur’s uncontrolled series of breathless laughter and pure amusement. If anything, Kieran presumed Arthur only suggested this idea of “practise” just to entertain himself in one way or another. In any case, he hoped his continuous failure somehow became fruitful; he hopes his aim will in time increase in precision and accuracy.

“I told you, O’Driscoll,” Arthur called out, regaining his breath. “I told you to breath out and relax those shoulders before you shoot. None of this…tenseness.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kieran grumbled. “I get it. No need to be an ass ‘bout it.”

“It ain’t about being an ass,” Arthur chuckled. “But I have seen old grandma’s with a better shot than you.”

Kieran looked back at the man. Arthur was resting against a thick fallen tree truck, legs crossed over one another and his arms behind his head. His beloved journal was beside him on the log, opened. He really was enjoying the biggest hit show of Kieran being Kieran. The younger man also noticed he had a grin on his face, something Kieran noted to remember; it was a rare sight. Kieran was still debating internally if Arthur was doing all this simply to pass time and purposely be an ass, or if he was actually…enjoying this quality time with Kieran. Maybe he should ask.

“Well, comparing me to old women while sitting on yer ass ain’t gonna make me a gunslinger,” Kieran retorted, glaring at Arthur. “I…I really want to be good and I want to be more useful to the gang than just a stable boy.”

Kieran wiped his brow, his face hot and wet with perspiration. “I want…I wanna be someone more than an inconvenience to you, Arthur.”

He looked back at Arthur. The older man’s head tilted, his grin fading slightly.

Kieran realised what he just said. “U-uh A-And…the gang too!” He added whilst his voice cracked.

Kieran felt his face flushed at once, thanking the heavens he could simply blame it on the heat. He looked away and stare at the ground, his mind racing with a million thoughts of how he could have reiterated what he said. He was overthinking it naturally.

Before he could process it, Arthur, storing his journal in his satchel, stood up and walked over to him, stretching his arms in the process, bones groaning with the occasional pop. Kieran reflectively took a step back, his eyes darting everywhere but Arthur’s eyes.

Arthur stopped a few paces before him, hands on his gun belt.

“Take your aim again,” he directed with assertion.

Kieran, unsure of how to approach, simply obeyed and aimed at one of the makeshift targets in front of him – an empty beer bottle. The barrel of the gun aligned with the target, Kieran was suddenly aware of Arthur’s close supervision, a sense of embarrassment bundling within him.

He heard Arthur scoff and looked over, seeing the gunslinger shaking his head while rubbing his temples with one hand.

Kieran felt his heart beat rise sharply, wishing he was anything but himself at this moment. His mind repeated the sight of a disappointed Arthur within his mind. His body became trembling in embarrassment and fear, unsure if he should shoot to inevitably miss or just continue to jitter whilst standing and aiming like he was.

The sun itself seemed to intensify its unforgiving rays of light upon his back.

At once, he felt a unique warmth behind him, followed by a hand under elbow and on his opposite shoulder. Kieran’s heartbeat skipped a beat, prior to increasing abruptly. Arthur held his hands there until Kieran stopped shaking.

“Like I said,” Arthur’s low voice rumbled behind him, warm breath tickling his neck. “You need to relax these shoulders for starters.” He applied faint pressure on Kieran’s shoulder, inviting the younger man to do so.

“Now,” he continued, directing Kieran’s arms with his hands. “Move into this position, as it will help reduce the impact from the recoil.”

He then gently nudged Kieran’s legs with his, forcing a particular stance. “This will allow for greater balance and further reduce that recoil impact, got it?”

Kieran, though complying efficiently, was beyond flustered at this point, unsure if he was going to die of a heart attack from his elevated heart rate, or of heart stroke by all the heat consuming him from the sun and Arthur’s proximity alike.

“U-uh, like this?” Kieran questioned, looking at the outlaw behind him.

“Yeah, you got it,” Arthur encouraged, patting Kieran’s shoulder once. “Now before you shoot, remember to breathe in as your form a perfect alignment with your target, exhaling as you fire.”

Kieran took deep breaths, preparing himself mentally and physically. With all this effort just to shoot one bottle with decent skill, Kieran figured to Arthur, this was second nature.

Without another thought, he focused his complete existence upon his gun and the target before him. He relaxed his shoulders and took a deep breath, the warm air filling his lungs, his eyes beginning to water and straining to stay focused.

He pulled the trigger and felt the force of the bullet channel through his body. However, he failed to here the sound of glass shattering. He missed again.

He heard Arthur sigh, unsure of how to respond. Kieran thought about giving up.

“ _No_ ,” he thought vigilantly. “ _I ain’t gonna be weak in front of him. I have to prove myself_.” He shook his head and focused again, his body reacting smoothly, and his breathing controlled. He breathed out once more and took a shot.

At once, the sound of glass shattering reverberated through the forest, music to Kieran’s ears. The hands still on his shoulder and elbow seemed to have tensed, the younger man noticed.

The pressure from them was lifted, Arthur’s face etched with shock. He repositioned his hat on his head and chuckled.

“Wow,” he finally said. “You surprised me, Kieran.” He chuckled again, looking at Kieran. Kieran himself was beaming with pride. His heart thundered in his chest, unsure oh how to handle itself.

“I-I shot it, mister!” he exclaimed. “Shit! I did it.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, boy,” Arthur commented, smirking. “You just be lucky we are to be shootin’ animals here. If that was an enemy there…” He gestured towards the thousands of shattered pieces of glass scattered across the ground. “You’d be dead before you even consider reaching for your gun.”

“Well, I hope to get better, sir,” Kieran explained, blushing in embarrassment. “But one moment…”

Kieran decided to give himself another chance at redemption. He focused on the next target, a smaller bottle used for horse stimulant, used after Branwen became rather lethargic beforehand.

He aimed and fired once again. The bottle dispersed into a majestic array of particles, glittering in the golden sunlight.

“Well…shit,” Arthur breathed. “You’re fast learner…for an O’Driscoll.”

Kieran turned back to the outlaw and rolled his eyes, but grinned again.

“Well, I mean, I only learn from the best," he responded.

Arthur coughed, a small smile forming. Kieran swore he noticed the faintest hue of red appear on the man's cheeks. He must have imagined it.

“Naw, I’d consider it beginner’s luck, Kieran,” Arthur said, his smile reforming into a smirk. “You still are a shit shooter.”

Kieran laughed, looking towards the ground. Arthur joined in, before stepping back.

“Anyway,” he began. “Enough of today has been wasted trying to teach you to shoot, namely with a gun that ain’t the best for a clean kill anyhow. ‘Bout time we find that lot of deer”

“Y-yeah,” Kieran smiled. “Let’s go.”

Arthur turned and both began walking towards the horses, who were content with each other’s presence while eating the fresh grass underneath.

Kieran stared at the older man’s back, his suspenders moving accordingly to his body while he continued.

“Um…Arthur?”

“Mm?”

Kieran began fidgeting whilst walking behind the man, unsure how to formulate his words coherently.

“Thank you.” It was the best he could come up with at that point.

Arthur looked behind his shoulder, his eyes sparkling beautiful cocktails of blue and green while falling outside the shadow of his hat’s brim.

“Think nothing of it, Kieran,” he said, a hint of a smile flashing. Kieran was certain he saw more reddening of the outlaw's cheeks.

The warm air flew through the permeable clothes of Kieran, though the younger man felt his heart twinge with a warmth more real than anything he experienced before. He knew the hardship he would face if he dwelled in these emotions, but something in him sparked. That smile, those eyes. Arthur Morgan. The strange, rugged man who seemed to care in some way, though he would do his best to deny it. That man made Kieran feel something. Kieran felt awaken. He felt alive.

\--

The sun, a few hours away from kissing the horizon, was radiating its brilliant light upon the landscape. The surround trees were glazed with refracted light of reds and yellows. Kieran recalled all that time contained in camp, surrounded by the constant belittling of others, having truly forgotten what it was like to experience the freshness of the wild.

Branwen was breathing heavily under him, galloping at a steady pace with Arthur and his horse in front of him. They had been in silence for most of the trip, Kieran thankful for the sounds of air rushing past his ears filling in the omnipresent void of silence. It allowed him to be with his thoughts for a bit. A brief period of introspection.

“Arthur,” Kieran called. Arthur slowed down his horse, meeting with Kieran at his side, both of their speeds reduced to a trot.

“I was wondering,” Kieran suddenly felt stupid; a common occurrence. “Did yer horse happen to have a name?”

Arthur gave a light-hearted chuckle.

“Funny story actually,” he began, a frown surfacing. “My previous horse died a few weeks ago. Beautiful horse. I really miss her, but she got in the way of gunfire.”

“Oh,” Kieran sighed, empathy weaved through his tone. “I am sorry to hear that.” Losing a horse was always an inevitable hardship in this lifestyle.

“It’s alright,” Arthur reassured sombrely. “Right between the eyes, so it was a painless death. In any case, I got this new horse right here and I still haven’t found an appropriate name for him…too lazy honestly.”

“Would you like me to think of a name?”

Arthur glanced at Kieran. “Sure, go right ahead. What name you thinking of, boy?”

Kieran thought for a moment. He immediately took note how Arthur addressed him. His go-to name when he comforts and soothes the horse he rides. Boy. The syllable thickened and twisted with his signature voice; Kieran considered it.

“Mmm How ‘bout ‘Boy’?”

Arthur looked at him, bewildered to the highest degree.

“What?” he blurted.

“You know, ‘boy’? What you always say.”

Kieran felt stupid again.

Arthur shook his head, still confused.

Kieran rolled his eyes. “You know, Morgan: ‘ _Boah_ ’.” Arthur at once snorted with amusement.

Kieran continued to imitate Arthur’s voice. “ _Yer alright, boah_! _Yer a good boah_! Y-you know…”

Arthur began howling with laughter, his voice straining and wheezing. Kieran looked at him and began laughing uncontrollably as well.

“You are one hell of a kid, Kieran,” Arthur breathed though the sparse breaks between outburst of laughter. “Yer imitation of me sound like I got kicked in the balls!”

“Just bein’ observant, is all,” Kieran remarked.

“Boah,” Arthur repeated to himself. “I gotta say, I think it is stuck with me now.”

He patted the mane of his horse. “Hope you enjoy your new name, Boah.”

He smiled, Kieran actually surprised he accepted it. It was an attempt, yet a successful one.

“Goddamn my stomach hurts now,” Arthur grunted, still wearing an amused smile. “Damn you, O’Driscoll.”

Kieran was about to retaliated with a hopelessly witty remark when he saw Arthur stop his horse. His expression manifested into complete awe, staring beyond Kieran.

The younger man followed his line of sight to a brilliant view: a large deer, boasting of strong legs, a robust body and beautifully sculptured antlers, perfect in symmetry and flawless in structure. It was a magnificent sight, a small herd of deer of similar form behind it. They were framed by trunks of surrounding trees spreading out to the clearing they were grazing at. The sun’s rays shimmered on a nearby river, eliciting an unknown desire within Kieran to capture the moment with a camera.

“I-Is that…them?” Kieran questioned.

“That sure is.”

“They are…They’re incredible!”

Arthur steered his horse off the pathway and into the surrounding greenery, nearing the opening between the trees. The deer were unaware of their presence, but such a state was immensely transient. Their hidden position was essential.

Arthur dismounted his horse, Kieran doing the same, shaking with anticipation. He knelt with Arthur in the low shrubs.

“Okay, boy…” Arthur began, before looking at Kieran and glaring at the O’Driscoll’s hint of amusement. “Okay, _Kieran_ , this is the plan. We don’t wanna shoot no more than two of those deer, since we can only carry a maximum of two between us. Also, to preserve the perfect condition of their furs, we need to do a clean kill.”

“So no pistols or revolvers?” Kieran suggested. Arthur nodded, filling Kieran with dread.

“So all my “training” really was in vain, huh?”

“Mmm, well, have you ever shot a rifle before, I packed you one ‘fore we left camp?”

“W-well yeah, but shouldn’t I have practised with that before potentially sabotaging this entire trip?” Kieran exclaimed under his breath, incredulous.

“Well, the rifle basically has a lot more of a punch with it, but you have the scope to help…” Arthur seemed to think a little. “I really hope your beginner’s luck hasn't run short yet.”

Kieran gulped, looking towards the deer again, oblivious to their foreseeable fate.

Arthur walked back to Boah and armed himself with his bow and arrow.

“I will move out a bit so all the firing will not occur from one spot. Let me shoot first since arrows are far more silent and have a higher likelihood of a swift and clean kill.”

Kieran nodded, his heart thumping in his chest.

“Good luck to you,” he said.

"And to you too, Kieran." He noticed the younger man's nervousness. "Don't worry, kid. Just wait for my shot first." He mounted Boah again, and with a nod, he rode away.

Kieran walked to his own horse and took out the rifle stored away on his saddle. It’s intimidating length sparked fear into Kieran. He was going to screw up this simple task.

He returned to his original kneeling position, noticing the rifle was already loaded. He aimed the weapon at the herd of deer, unsure of which on to aim at. He really should have practised with the rifle beforehand.

He waited and focused on his controlled breathing, altering his posture similar to what Arthur taught him before. He waited.

The sound of leaves rustling while birds from across the forest communicated with each other left him in a tranquil moment. Everything seemed peaceful. The distant sound of that river was audible, combining with the stunning visual of sunlight glazing upon the landscape to accentuate the tranquillity. Kieran focused again through the scope and selected a certain deer, its head targeted for a prompt death.

Suddenly, the sight of an arrow plunging though the central deer’s side alerted Kieran of Arthur’s victory. The deer collapsed so gracefully, the other deer remained dormant, providing the perfect opportunity for a second shot.

Kieran focused on the deer in his sight and cocked his rifle. His legs in their kneeling position was becoming painful, his leg muscles stretching too far for his liking. Nonetheless, he took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders.

If he managed this, Arthur…would be proud of him. Maybe.

He breathed out and pulled the trigger. At once, the rifle recoiled painfully into his shoulder, forcing him backwards unto his back. The whistling of air greeted him, his black, greasy hair flowing in front of his eyes as if in slow motion. Enthralling. He landed violently on his back, losing his grip on his rifle.

“Oh shit,” he yelp. His shoulder was in pain, a burning sensation mixed with heat. Definitely bruise-worthy.

He picked himself up and went to pick up his rifle when he heard an ominous presence behind him. His body stopped moving and he began to shudder. Kieran’s blood froze when he heard the sickening sound of growling.

“ _Fuck fuck fuck_ ,” he thought.

He wished he did not attain the temptation to look back and view his bringer of death, but he never got the chance to steal a glance.

At once, a superior force pushed onto him and dispersed pressure upon shoulder. Soon the pressure became pain as he felt teeth sink into flesh and threaten to crush bone. Warmth enveloped his torso and right shoulder, spreading along his body. The scent of freshly exposed flesh and wild dog filled his senses. He was going to die. Kieran could feel his blood leave his slowly deflating blood vessels and stain his clothes. He could feel the dirt under him, still damp from this morning’s cold chill. He could taste the blood which found its way to his tongue, the metallic taste reminding him of rust. The sound of growling, of his own voice crying in pain, of muscle and tendons gradually breaking apart; he sensed that. He could see nothing but pure agony, unsure if he was blind or just blinded by fear and pain. He felt sick. He felt lost. He felt fear. And yet, in the moment of imminent death:

He felt alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there is that. I hope you like it so far. Did you know my horse in game is actually Boah because I like to think the game recognises the name you input and Arthur says it accordingly, hence "Boah/boy"? 
> 
> If you want to comment, please do. It fuels me with determination! If you don't want to comment...fine. I forgive you. :) Thank you and I will see you next time!


	7. So Much Hurt Inside Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drifting in and out of consciousness, Kieran awakens after his attack...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya. My lord how long has it been. I am so sorry for not updating in a while. I have no excuse except I am a fool lol I hope you enjoy this new chapter...I just felt it was time to finally continue this sad excuse of a story. Enjoy

“Kieran, breakfast is ready!”

The fabric of the blanket around him was comforting and warm. The warm of the morning sunlight radiated through his window, heating the skin of his face. He didn’t want to get up. He loved it at times like this, a balanced temperature where it was not too warm or cold, and he felt his consciousness drift in and out of drowsiness. He curled up tight and pulled his blanket closer to him, sighing contently in his pillow. He knew living on a ranch, he should have been more of a morning person, waking up at the break of dawn, barely thriving off the bitter coffee consumed right before work on the horses. Despite this, he always seemed to steal an additional hour or two, laying in his bed while basking in his lethargy, much to his father’s distaste.

“Kieran, if you were anymore lazy, perhaps I would mix you with the animals and put you in the stables instead.”

“I’m up, Ma,” the boy called back, squeezing his eyes tightly and counting the final seconds of his moment of bliss.

At once, he lifted his blanket off and stood up on his feet, stretching. He heard his joints in his shoulders release the sudden tension with an adequate crack and looked at his small mirror situated by his bedside. He noticed the subtle hinting of stubble along his cheeks and upper lip; finally becoming a man.

He quickly removed his over-garments and changed into his day close, yawning without restraint continuously. Finally finished with his boots, he sets of towards the kitchen.

The welcoming scent of bacon was unmistakeable, followed by the sound of poured milk. Saturday was always his day of the perfect breakfast. He would thank to always thank his mother for that.

“Well…’morning to you, Kieran,” she greeted, her hands on her hips sternly. “See you finally have the basic capacity to get outta bed.”

“It ain’t my fault, Mammy. I just get real tired.”

“I quite frankly care not for your excuses,” his mother retorted, though a hint of a smile on her features. “Just eat your food and help your father outside.”

Kieran sits down at the table, followed by his mother, and begins with his food. The breakfast was as pleasing as the previous time before. Kieran gulped down his last mouthful of milk and wiped his face.

“Boy, with those manners, how you ever going to find a wife?” His mother commented. She was silent for a long pause, before continuing.

“You know,” she began, looking at Kieran with the kindness and consideration of a mother. “You may be a lost cause right now, Kieran…” She chuckled a little. “But I know, when you grow up, you are going to find someone special…Someone who really cares about you.”

“Ma, please not now,” Kieran whined, rolling his eyes. “I ain’t ever going to get anyone. It’ll just be me and the horses.”

“Well, I just hope one day, when you find that person, you’ll know, Kieran. Maybe you might even start a family.” She ended that sentence in an optimistic tone, causing Kieran to roll his eyes again.

“W-wha? A family? I’m only sixteen, Ma!” Kieran exclaimed, his cheeks flushing.”

His mother began laughing. “Oh, I’m just teasing you. Though, you never know, Kieran. Because one of these days, your Pa and I, we ain’t going to be around forever.”

\--

Goosebumps scattered across the pale skin of Kieran. His eyes were lolled to the back of his head, unsure of direction and balance. He felt a multitude thin blankets and a thick winter coat rough against his skin and around him, tucked in at the sides, allowing the fabric to shape according to his slender figure. The chill of the night was overwhelming, his throat cold and frozen. Gradually, he felt an intensifying ache at his abdomen and shoulders; a million small knifes fitting in the pores of his skin and ripped out again. At once, he opened his eyes in fright and pain. He was in a tent, lit by the small flame from a nearby lantern and shuddering against the howling wind outside. His sudden shortness of breath produced puffs of frost from his mouth, the individual frozen particles implicated within each cloud. It seemed he was bandaged, covering his torso and shoulders tightly.

He turned his head and saw a figure next to him, lying down on his back, his hands neatly folded on his torso. The man’s facial expression was of peace, his breathing steady and comfortable. Wearing a union shirt and a thin blanket around him to his chest, he seemed ignorant of the coolness and strong gales surrounding the tent. Kieran noted how beautiful the sleeping man appeared, unsure of whether he had the right to think such a thing.

“A-Ar-A…?” He croaked, his throat burning in pain, before clearing his throat. “A-Arthur?

The man’s eyes opened subtly, looking over towards Kieran with lazy eyes. He gave a wide yawn, stretching his arms. Suddenly, his eyes seemed to focus a fraction more before he sat up suddenly.

“Kieran?” he mumbled, giving a small smile. “So you finally awake? Ain’t dead after all.”

Kieran chuckled lightly, though that soon transformed into more of a coughing fit. Arthur’s smile faded off. After a few moments, Kieran regained himself and gave a deep breath of cold air.

“What…happened?” he managed to say, trying to sit up in a more upright posture.

Arthur laid a firm hand on his chest and forced him down again.

“Well,” he began, turning to look for something in his satchel. The wind howled even stronger than before. “While we were hunting, I heard a scream and decided that scream to belong to nobody else but you, I suppose. Saw you being attacked by a wolf. So I decided to help you. Nothing to special…I suppose.”

“And…and the wolf?” Kieran asked nervously, almost like a child would when weary of the monster under his bed.

Arthur looked at Kieran with those blue eyes of his, pulling out a handful of strips of dried beef. “Yeah, I took care of him. Didn’t want to let you go though.”

Kieran looked down up at the ceiling and shivered. “G-guess I tasted that good,” he finally said.

Arthur smiled and laughed, giving Kieran a good handful of the food. “Yeah, guess you did.”

Arthur and Kieran both laughed, Kieran forcing his cough to remain dormant. After a few moments, they were just staring at each other, their smiles slowly fading.

“Arthur…” Kieran said, the gunslinger tilting his head slightly. “Thank you.”

“Naw…think nothing of it,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Besides, I needed a helping hand for the deer we caught. You shot that deer between the eyes. A clean kill. Pretty impressive.”

Kieran felt his cheeks heat up and blush.

“Thanks, b-but you saved my life, Mister.” Kieran tried to sit up again, only for a firm hand to guide him back down on his rug. “You saved my life…”

“Kieran, you gotta stop or else I might just change my mind,” Arthur said, initially as a half-hearted threat, but it followed a smile.

“No seriously,” Kieran insisted. “I saved your life at Six Point Cabin, you saved my life. I think we are even now, ya think?”

“Boy, I saved your life every time I decided to not kill you at camp, so if anythin’, you’re in debt to me.”

Kieran frowned slightly and looked away from the outlaw’s eyes.

“Aw I’m only needling, ya,” Arthur said quickly, noticing the younger man’s sombre expression.

“Mister Arthur,” Kieran whispered in such a cautious manner, Arthur looked at him and seemed to hold his breath for a moment. “D…do you think you are a good man?”

Arthur turned and looked outside the tent, seeing the darkness of the outside, its uncertainty and insecurity threatening to seep through the tent’s boundaries.

Arthur let go of a deep breath he forgot he was holding. “I don’t think I am…no.”

His low and melancholy tone ran shivers up Kieran’s spine, almost as if he entered some unknown territory with the man beside him. Kieran hummed in response.

They were silent for a few moments, Kieran’s heart beating against his aching chest. He was unsure why he asked such a question.

“Do you think you are a good man?” the gunslinger asked him.

“Um…” Kieran was surprised Arthur asked him, providing a moment of introspection. Perhaps he understood Arthur’s sudden demeanour of a hurt individual. “No…I don’t think so.”

Arthur looked at him and smiled, shaking his head. “You could not be more from the truth, Kieran.”

“Well…I have done many things that I ain’t proud of,” Kieran explained. “I’ve killed people and been a coward…a nobody…and just…just…”

“Kieran…that is a consequence of this kinda life. You cannot really run from it…at least that is what Hosea and Dutch taught me.” Arthur scratched his beard. “No matter how far you escape from its grasp…the outlaw life will always catch up…if not be already a step ahead of you.”

“Then what are you saying?” Kieran questioned, his sides burning.

“Well, despite this life you are living, I can tell it has not eaten at that…I don’t know…innocence yet…you are still a good person, Kieran.”

Kieran sighed, unconvinced. “Ever since my Mammy and Pappy died, I don’t think I ever really felt safe or at home before since. But despite it all, I still hope I find my place at in your gang…whether or not that makes me a good person.”

Arthur did not say anything to that but gave a small nod.

“I just don’t wanna be alone, I guess.”

Arthur sighed. “You ain’t alone, Kieran. You are part of our gang.” Kieran blinked a few times, shocked to hear such words from a man like Arthur, the same one who a few months ago had him tied on his horse. “Like it or not, you’re “ _Kieran Van der Linde_ ”.”

Kieran rolled his eyes and smiled, Arthur following. They were silent again, the sounds of gales and the chill of the night. Kieran heard Arthur breathing air deeply through his nose, feeling the same air flow through his cold lungs. Kieran noticed both of them were staring into each other’s eyes, suddenly feeling flustered and embarrassed. He looked away quickly, following with Arthur clearing his throat.

“So…uh…guess we should rest now. We have our deer, so guess we should head home first thing tomorrow.”

“Mmm hmm.”

Arthur lied back down on his bedroll, facing his back to Kieran.

The younger man rested into his multiple layers of warmth over him; yet, still continued to shiver. It was then he realised how cold Arthur must be with only one layer between him and the cold night air.

“Mr. Morgan,” Kieran hesitated.

“Yeah?”

“You cold there?” Kieran noticed, as if on cue, Arthur’s broad frame began to shiver.

“Nah, I’m alright.”

“Y-you sure?” Kieran pressed on, unsure he should continue. “If you…uh…want, you could go under these covers?”

There was only silence, to which Kieran quickly reacted. “Or I could give you some blankets if you want, I mean.”

He heard a small sigh come from the outlaw before him. The man sat up and looked at Kieran, his eyes glowing in the warm light from the lantern.

Kieran was unsure of what would happen next, but Arthur just moved closer to him.

“Scoot,” he whispered. Kieran’s heart skipped a beat when the older man lifted the layers of blankets over Kieran and laid next to him under the covers.

Kieran immediately felt warmth radiating from Arthur, the feeling of another right besides him being the safest he felt in years. He could not help but let out a small sigh of contentment, unsure if Arthur heard it.

Arthur gave Kieran once last look in the eyes, before turning his back to Kieran, both of them under the covers.

“Night, Kieran.”

“And Mister Arthur…” Kieran whispered behind him, hearing a small grunt in response.

“It’s just Arthur, Kieran,” the older man responded, chuckling tiredly. “Yes?”

“Y-You are a good man, Arthur.”

Kieran heard no response, but he hoped the hardened outlaw understood how truthful and sincere Kieran’s words were.

He did.

\--

Kieran woke to immense warmth pressed up against him. He was never so comfortable in his life. His feet were against somebody else’s, his arms curled up to his chest between other’s. He opened his eyes to the earliest hours of the day, darkness and wind still enveloping the tent. He then saw how close he was to Arthur. Their bodies must have naturally been attracted to each other’s warmth, with Arthur having turned to face him.

Initially considering keeping his distance now that he gained awareness, he decided against it, shuffling a little closer to the other man. It was then he noticed how his hands were entwined with Arthur’s, almost enveloping the other’s hands.

Deciding to take advantage of this moment, he took notice of all the subtle imperfections of Arthur’s skin, ranging from slight creases, to a small scar on his chin, hidden deviously behind his short beard. Kieran remembered what Arthur said when he liked women only, and that he could never change that fact, but he selfishly wished that not to be the case. He knew there was something buried inside that man which was hurting him more than he could handle inwardly. And the ignorance of the camp was not helping. But Kieran wished Arthur all the happiness this outlaw could ever possibly provide, even if it was not much.

He gazed upon the peaceful expression Arthur had, hoping he could one day have that sort of peace even when he was awake. Before long, Kieran fell back into his sleep, hoping this moment would never end.

\--

He woke up again a few hours later, his hands empty and the warm that was present before replaced by the inadequacy of the multitude of blankets over him; he seemed to be tucked in again as an attempt to lock in the warmth.

He heard footsteps and shuffling of equipment outside, along with the sounds of horse hooves clattering against soft ground. Soon he heard his Branwen snorting, something he only does once given a generous treat.

After a few more moments, he saw Arthur enter the tent’s flabs. The man noticed Kieran looking at him immediately.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Arthur laughed, though looked away. “Was about’a do so anyway.”

Kieran nodded, smiling. He began to sit and managed to half stand up, before he become away of the familiar pain coursing through his body from his injuries.

“Aw shit,” he cried, slipping, but regaining his strength slowly. Arthur moved closer to him and helped him up, placing Kieran’s arm around his shoulder.

“You alright?” he asked, Kieran nodding while breathing hard.

“How long was I gone out for anyways?” Kieran breathed, while they were walking out of the tent.

“Just a couple of days. Nothing too long.”

“And you took care of me the entire time?” Kieran asked, incredulous.

“Not again, Kieran,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “But…well…I guess I had no choice.”

“Well, you did,” Kieran interjected. “You could’ve left me to that wolf…would have been lighter ride home.”

“Yeah,” Arthur laughed. “Well, you sometimes gotta live with your regrets.”

“It seems so.”

Both of them laughed, the outside air having warmed up considerably, though still uncomfortable to breath in for Kieran.

“Guess you can’t ride your horse, right?”

“I mean…I could try.”

Arthur shook his head. “That ain’t a possibility.”

Arthur attempted to carefully lift Kieran onto his horse, though it was still painful for the younger man, before quickly packing away their small campsite.

Kieran noticed how they were in some small opening, surrounded by trees, these areas appearing unrecognisable to him. The sound of morning birds and the sensation of mist lightly passing his pale skin was strangely comforting. After Arthur was finished and ensured their hunted deer were secured on either of their horses, he mounted his horse and set off towards home, with Branwen following behind shortly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, if you enjoyed this, don’t not hesitant to comment. PLEASE tell me what you think or literally any sort of expression of what you felt while reading this. Is the writing shit? Is it good? Tell me…it keeps me going! Anyhow, see you next time, whenever that is, cowboys


	8. Sunlight, Outlaws, and Waterfalls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With their trip having concluded...It is time to head home...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I hope you are well and healthy. To ensure you are so, here is another chapter to hopefully satisfy that hunger for the Kieran x Arthur pairing. As for me, I am doing well (thanks for asking) and just suffering at university. The joys haha Anyhow, enjoy!

The first thing Kieran noticed was the subtle scent of roasted wood from a campfire and sweat filling his senses. It was strangely comforting and welcoming. He then felt a familiar pain jolting through his torso, his muscles spasming sequentially towards his neck. Where was he? He brushed his face against a soft fabric, slightly damp with perspiration. So warm. He kept his eyes shut, his body too lethargic to do anything but savour in the comfort of the moment. This warmth juxtaposed with the cool, fresh air around him, his lungs and throat pleasantly cool, similar to the effects of a peppermint after it dissolves in your mouth. He snuggled against the warmth, his arms wrapped around the source firmly and attempting to consume as much as he could manage. A day had passed since he woke up from that wolf attack. The weather was not improving and still remained relatively cold, much to Kieran’s distain. However, they were very close to Horseshoe Overlook and soon this hunting trip of theirs would be over.

The rhythmic jolts of motion through his body and the sound of hooves clapping against hard ground helped Kieran know he was on a horse. He then heard the man in front of him clear his throat loudly, feeling his back reverberate against Kieran’s face. Arthur.

Kieran blushed when the man’s face appeared in his mind; the gunslinger’s furrowed eyebrows and side glances manifesting in his imagination, the rare grins and subtle chuckles replaying continuously while all his small scars and vivid eyes became exponentially beautiful and attractive. The man would sit around other members of the gang, singing a silly song of theirs while he took a long drag from a cigarette and blew out an intangible cloud of smoke, the glow of the fire accentuating all the features which made him handsome. Kieran grinned to himself, unsure where all these immature thoughts were emerging from.

In a moment’s time, Kieran opened his eyes and became aware of his situation. What the fuck was he doing, snuggling up against the _Arthur Morgan_? Kieran promptly sat up and shuffled back on the saddle, loosening his arms around the older man and decidedly placing only the slightest pressure on Arthur’s hips for support, for the sake of necessity, lest he wanted to plummet to the dusty ground below.

Arthur noticed the change in posture and looked behind him, Kieran looking at those eyes for a moment before looked aware, almost letting go of the man altogether and falling back.

“Hiya, Arthur,” Kieran quickly, his voice cracking midway his sentence.

Arthur’s mouth formed a small smile, though he rolled his eyes and looked on ahead. “Kieran.”

Kieran was unsure of what he should do, considering he was far too tired for conversation, let alone lacked any affinity towards small talk, and Arthur seemed too preoccupied with riding. He should have just remained against Arthur’s back, appearing oblivious to it all. He was surprised the man did not shake him off whilst doing so.

Without an external source of heat, Kieran’s body shuddered, goosebumps arising across his skin. He looked around him, noticing Branwen still following closely behind, appearing well fed and content.

“Hey boy,” Kieran greeted, waving at his horse. Branwen ignored him, though the mischievous horse’s ears twitched. “ _Ain’t no interest in me unless a sugar cube or apple is involved_ ,” Kieran amusingly thought.

“Did you just call me ‘ _boy_ ’?” he heard Arthur question behind him, leading him to snap his head in his direction, meeting his piercing, perplexed gaze.

“Wha!?” Kieran blurted, his heart beating vigorously against his chest. “N-No, I didn’t!”

Arthur’s head just tilted a little while Kieran began began gesturing wildly towards Branwen, his grip on Arthur’s hip faltering slightly.

“I-I was calling ma horse that and all!” He pointed to Branwen again.

Arthur’s confused expression immediately morphed into one of pure amusement.

“Oh Christ!” he smiled, turning his back to Kieran to look forward again. “I am only needling ya! God, you are so easy to tease.”

Kieran’s embarrassment halted, his heart calming down for a second out of relief before speeding up again out of anger.

“It ain’t right to play with a man’s feelings like that, Arthur!” he exclaimed, feeling incredibly stupid.

“Aw Come on, Kieran,” Arthur said softly, looking back with a smirk. “You know I can’t pass up an opportunity for a joke like that.”

Kieran remained silent, his tiredness and the pain through his body after intensified after that commotion. He wanted to yawn, but his body was reluctant. He just sighed and rubbed his eyes with one hand. It was midday and they were on a hill, their right looking out upon a vast forest and rocks. The sky pale blue, a thin layer of mist overhanging the land, subdued the blinding light of the sun, allowing for its spherical appearance to be distinct. Kieran’s eyes looked back to Arthur’s back and sighed quietly. His neck and spined begged for rest.

“You still feeling tired?” Arthur asked, continuing to look ahead.

Kieran was silent for a moment, shaking his head to wake himself up a bit before answering.

“A little, yup.”

Arthur hummed. The sound of a distant waterfall roared, echoing across the landscape. Every sound lulled Kieran into a sort of lethargic trance. He just wanted to rest, not necessarily sleep, but let his bones and muscles stop aching for at least a moment.

“If you want,” Arthur began cautiously, uncertainty etched in his tone. “You can rest again against me if you want…”

Kieran noticed Arthur stiffen, already sensing the man’s embarrassment. He was wholly surprised by the notion.

“You…you alright with that?” Kieran asked carefully.

“Of course,” Arthur confirmed. “I mean, it’ll shut you up for the rest of the trip.” The man cleared his throat and was then silent. He gave Kieran a subtle side glance, the younger man noticing the tint of red on the man’s cheeks.

“ _Must be the heat_ ,” Kieran autonomously presumed in this mind. He then remembered it was not hot today, quite the opposite in actuality.

“T-thank you,” he said, uncertainty in his voice. Was this another joke? Arthur and him slept in the same bed last night: a consequence of the previous night they kept each other warm after Kieran awoke. If anything, Kieran noticed Arthur was, in the strangest of moments, rather open to physical contact…with regards to warmth and comfort.

_“Arthur…Do yer wanna…uh…sleep beside me..a-again? It’s another cold night…and all”_

_Feeling those blue eyes look upon him, his expression nonchalant, Kieran looked away with embarrassment._

_“Y-you don’t have to…o-of course…”_

_“Sure…” The older man finally responded, getting under Kieran’s collection of blankets lent from Arthur once again. “Though don’t you get use to this, boy.”_

_Kieran noticed the subtle redness in Arthur’s cheeks. As if a man like him could get flustered like that over sleeping next to Kieran…in the name of warmth…of course._

He moved back to his initial position against Arthur’s warm and firm back, resting his head between the man’s shoulder blades as if there was a perfect fit. The moment his cheek grazed the fabric of Arthur’s shirt, he noticed the outlaw’s muscles tensed, only to relax after Kieran applied a little more pressure comfortingly. Kieran, still increasingly nervous with each movement, positioned his hands from Arthur’s hips to around his waist. The warmth and familiar scent only heightened the sudden fatigue surging through his body. Kieran couldn’t help a little sigh that escaped his lips.

“Enjoying yourself there?” Arthur mumbled.

Out of reaction, Kieran yelped a quick “sorry” and attempted to move away. However, Arthur’s hand gently grabbed one of Kieran’s hand before either of them broke contact. Kieran’s heart skipped a beat and he hitched a breath. Slowly, Arthur guided Kieran’s arms around his waist again and Kieran laid back down. Arthur cleared his throat and gave a light sigh.

“Only joking?” Kieran uttered.

“Yup.”

Kieran felt the muscles of Arthur’s twitch a little, the tenseness from before returning, if only for a moment. He was consciously hugging a willing Arthur Morgan from behind, warm and comfortable. If getting attacked by a wolf led to such circumstances, Kieran only hoped it could have happened sooner.

He laid his head there and looked to his side towards the vast ocean of trees and pale blue skies, his vision partly obscured by Arthur’s back whilst a small murder of crows flying by. The sound of Arthur’s measured breaths, the omnipresent sound of that distant waterfall, Branwen and Boah’s snorts, their hooves methodically colliding with the dirt beneath, the wildlife of the West calling out to the world. Always there. Sometimes beautiful. These were one of those moments.

“Rest well, Kieran. We’ll arrive home soon enough.”

Kieran was going to respond, but his voice faltered away while drowsiness and comfort took over. He curled into the warmth and held tighter; a moment of absolute bliss.

\--

Kieran opened his eyes to Arthur gently nudging him.

“Hey, we’re here.”

Kieran opened his eyes and saw Arthur tapping him on the leg, stilling riding his horse and facing forward.

The afternoon sunlight providdc an orange glow to the skies above, with the grey layer of clouds from the majority of the day having been subdued. They reflected the rays of the sun, accentuating the simple beauty of an afternoon.

After Kieran’s eyes adjusted, he saw a considerable, familiar stretch of trees: a layer separating the Van der Linde camp’s boundaries from the rest of the world. Kieran noticed Arthur seemed to speed up his horse, expressing his longing for his family; a longing for his home. Kieran also was aware of Arthur’s subtle distancing from the younger man, slowly edging away from Kieran’s grip around his torso.

Understanding Arthur’s intentions, though a twinge of hurt sparked inside him, Kieran removed his arms around the man, resting them at an appropriate level on his hips to maintain support.

“Who goes there?” a deep, assertive voice enquired.

“It’s just me, Charles…” Arthur called back. “And the O’Driscoll.”

Kieran’s twinge of pain sparked once more.

“Ah, welcome back,” Charles greeted, giving a small smile; a similar fashion to Arthur’s.

“It’s good to be back,” Arthur responded. “How’s the camp while I was gone?”

“Just the usual. If anything, Pearson’s food is probably blander than before you left.”

“Well,” Arthur chuckled. “Ain’t that good to hear?”

Arthur continued along, with Charles nodding towards Kieran, who gave a smile back.

Arthur rode close enough to a post and dismounted Boah.

“Hey, Arthur’s back!”

Mary-Beth called out to the camp’s inhabitants, to which everyone turned their attention to the hardened grumpy outlaw, his ride, the horse-boy, and his trailing-along horse behind.

Arthur looked up to Kieran with an expression the younger man could not understand. Disappointment? Reluctance? Apologetic?

The gunslinger’s hands seemed to move on their own accord towards Kieran, preparing to help him down, but as sudden as the motion was, Arthur returned his hands back to his side and was greeted by various members of the camp.

“How has it been Arthur?”

“Did you catch it Arthur?”

“Oh wow, look at that kill!”

Their awestruck expressions made Kieran feel a little proud, but he soon figured out not one person had even acknowledged him yet. It was natural for him to be pushed to the side…once again.

Arthur looked somewhat uncomfortable surrounded by Dutch’s congratulations and promise of a party tonight regarding their…Arthur’s return, Bill talking some irrelevant nonsense, Pearson talking about all the "wondrous" food he will make, and the like.

“Well…uh” Arthur began firmly after a moment. “Actually, if anything, Kieran here actually shot one of the deer.” He gestured towards the younger man, still mounted on Boah, who seemed as restless and insecure as Kieran himself.

Everyone quietened down and looked at Kieran, who blushed uncontrollably, not knowing where to begin before looking at Arthur in desperation.

“W-well…I mean…I did…” Kieran stuttered. “Before…I was attacked by a wolf.”

Everyone was silent for a moment before laughing, Kieran joining in nervously, unsure of the commotion. “So you are trying to be just like Marston, huh?” Bill called out.

“W-what? No, it just happened…But…Arthur…he….” Kieran drifted off a bit, giving enough time for everyone to lose interest in him and focus back on Arthur. 

Kieran wanted to look back into Arthur's eyes, but he was already walking off with Dutch, Arthur asking him about Hosea's condition and everyone returning to their normal duties.

Mary-Beth walked up to Kieran and gave a warm smile.

“It’s good to have you back, Kieran,” she smiled, her cheeks glowing. She helped him down, Boah snorting in relief from the relieved weight on his back. The ever-present pain throbbing throughout his body from his injuries reignited, leading him to grimace in pain.

“Thank you, Miss,” he managed to say.

“You’re most welcome,” she chirped, though took note of his discomfort, supporting him at his side. “So a wolf? Are you feeling alright?”

“Well,” Kieran looked away, the golden skies distracting him. “I mean I am feeling a lot better.”

“Well, you better get cleaned up…'cause you stink.”

She smiled again and laughed. “Well, thank you, Miss,” Kieran said, blushing again. “But I don’t think I was really in a position to get a good bath.”

“Well, you clean yourself when you get the time and I'll find you some better clothes as well.”

“Thank you kindly, Mary-Beth,” Kieran smiled.

“But before that,” Mary-Beth exclaimed. “You better get yourself checked. I see Arthur…” She scanned the bandages across his shoulder and torso peaking through his clothes. “Arthur took good care of you alright.”

“He did…” Kieran agreed. “He…ain’t so bad…”

“Most of the men here really aren’t, once you get to know them, you know Kieran.” Mary-Beth walked to Kieran’s ear and whispered. “Especially Arthur, I guess.”

She gave a quick smile and walked off, her pigtails flowing and glittering in the afternoon sunlight. “See you for tonight’s party!” she called, before walking out of earshot.

Kieran took a deep breath and shut his eyes tightly, unsure of what to make what Mary-Beth just said. Surely…he was not that much of an open book, right? Maybe Mary-Beth’s strange affinity towards him bestowed her the capacity to read him like such.

Kieran at once heard a familiar whine behind him, turning to see Branwen, relieved of the deer, equipment and luggage already from his back.

“How are you, boy?” he greeted, limping towards Branwen, every step reminding him of his wounds.

Branwen shuffled away, appearing disappointed. Kieran knew immediately what the problem was and rolled his eyes. “Always the demanding one, huh?”

He dug around his coat, his fingers searching for something viable. After a moment, his fingers clasped around a sugar cube and he pulled it out. His horse immediately noticed the treat and ate it greedily from his hand.

“Oh you,” Kieran chuckled to himself, patting Branwen on the side. “You did good, Branwen…I’m proud of yer.”

“Mr. Duffy,” a relatively unfamiliar voice called out behind. He at once recognised the scrawny character of Mr. Strauss, his Austrian accent. “I will need to assess those awful excuses for bandages on your body and your injuries. Mr. Morgan was particularly keen to ensure so.”

Kieran was perplexed to say the least. “Really? W-well…I guess so then.”

“Trust me,” the old man said, beginning to walk away whilst beckoning the younger man. “I take no pleasure in this, but my competency in medicine far outweighs all you foolish outlaws.”

Kieran could only laugh awkwardly in response, unsure of how to handle this situation. He followed the man towards the medical station, catching the grumpy cowboy himself inside his tent, writing something in that journal of his. That was Arthur…always writing and drawing…especially when he thought no one was paying any attention to him. A hint of vulnerability…something Kieran was bestowed the rare opportunity to see whilst on that hunting trip.

“O’Driscoll!” A voice bellowed behind him. It was a stupid-looking Bill (by default), with Javier by his side. “Be sure to tell us all about that wolf during the party tonight. We all wanna know how an O’Driscoll handles such a fight! That is if yer ain't a lying ass.”

Kieran ignored them and continued towards Mr. Strauss.

“If it makes you feel better,” Javier yelled, amusement laced in his voice. “We feel it’s a shame the beast didn’t get the proper chance to rip you to shreds, amigo.”

Bill began exploding in laughter, his asinine demeanour exponentially becoming more dull with every escaping breath. “And….uh…uhh…yeah!” Is all the idiot could come up with.

Kieran shook his head and sighed.

Guess Arthur was wrong…he wasn’t part of the gang…and he was still an O’Driscoll.

With the sun shimmering with unspoken beauty across Horseshoe Outlook, Kieran was surprised his relatively decent mood with Arthur…the trip…a few days of hope for him and his…only friend…all diminished into a decaying vacuum only after a few slaps back into reality. He should not have been surprised anyway.

He was basically counting down the seconds before Arthur would start calling him an “O’Driscoll” again.

The dawning thought ached infinitely more than the wolf-teeth marks branded across his shoulder; more than any sort of pain that could be inflicted unto him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, ain't that just a tad sad. Don't worry. Like all fics I have read (except a solid few) I am sure there will be some sort of reconciliation between Arthur and Kieran...right? ...right??? Well, you just have to wait and see! :)) Thank you so much for reading and please PLEASE comment and leave a kudos (but more so comment) please. You will be blessed by the comment gods. Thanks again and see you in the next chapter!


	9. This Particular Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in camp, Kieran is in conflict with himself and seeks Arthur...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. I apologise for being a little lazy fool not updating in a while. Though not currently, I was not feeling too good...I guess mentally before and that somewhat hindered the progression of this chapter. However, now it is finished, I hope you enjoy a somewhat long chapter and thank you for reading!
> 
> As a warning, this chapter will contain mention of dick, but nothing else.
> 
> Enjoy.

It turned out, much to Kieran’s surprise, his injuries from the wolf attack had healed at an unprecedented rate, appearing not infected according to Mr. Strauss’ observations; however accurate or not they might have been. Needless to say, Kieran was relieved, his mood having improved a bit, despite the lasting sores still irritating him. Following examination, he gained an itch which spread across his body spontaneously, only accentuated by the scorching afternoon rays of the sun. He really hated exposing his sensitive skin to the outside air.

Despite his distaste for that, he figured he would follow Mary-Beth’s suggestion for a quick wash in the nearby river from the camp, apparently a place where Arthur took little Jack fishing, according to what the older man discussed to him during their return home.

Though, he first required permission to go to the location by horse. No wonder he never had the chance to bathe: the members of the camp never allowed him out of their sights, and this was not going to be an exception.

He initially considered going to Dutch’s tent to ask the man for an escort to the river, or perhaps even alone; he did kill one of those rare deer after all.

However, the man seemed preoccupied with an argument with his significant other, Miss O’Shea. Conversing with him at this point would be essentially requesting a death penalty.

“You seemed confused, boy,” an old voice said at once, causing Kieran to jump and looked towards a figure sitting at the nearby table. Hosea was reading a recently outdated newspaper, his eyes looking up from the text towards the younger man. Kieran could sense the wisdom pouring from the man’s gaze similar to that of an aura. He could also see the area where a gun wound was; the primary reason Arthur decided to bring along Kieran for the hunting trip when it should have been Hosea and him – father and son.

“U-Uh yes…actually, sir,” Kieran managed. “I am kinda, sir.”

He decided since Hosea was also in an authoritative position in the camp, perhaps he would be the more lenient of the two co-founders of the gang.

Hosea seemed interested, folding his newspaper and setting it aside. “Well come here and have a seat.”

Kieran obeyed and sat on the chair adjacent to the man.

“I heard from Arthur of the flawless shot you took with that deer,” the man mused, smiling lightly. “I must say, from a person who provides a…uh particular demeanour, you surprised me, Kieran.”

Kieran looked down and gave a small smile, guiltiness etching his emotions. “Naw, I did nothing, sir. If anything, you should have been the one to assist Arthur…” He felt stupid…somehow.

“Don’t worry about that,” Hosea reassured, placing a hand over the region of his bullet wound. “I had my chance. It seems at my age, hunting just seems more of a notion than a realistic activity for the elderly.”

“You ain’t that old, sir,” Kieran blurted out, suddenly unsure if that would be considered impolite.

Hosea gave out a warm laugh. “Why thank you, though you are highly mistaken.”

“In any case,” Hosea altered the topic of discussion. “What is it that you’re confused about?”

“Well,” Kieran began. “It ain’t as much confusion as a request instead…”

Hosea shuffled in his seat and blinked, waiting for Kieran to continue.

“Uh…so um…I kinda would like to have a little clean in a nearby river before the party tonight, but…uh naturally, I ain’t in a position to just go there by my own means.”

Hosea gave a light chuckle at Kieran’s request. “Ah, I understand. Well, I am sure if you ask one of the men, they’ll gladly escort you over there in a bit,” he suggested blatantly.

Kieran was unsure if he was sarcastic or not. It was hard to tell at times with this lot of people, Kieran noticed.

“U..Uh Really?” he began stuttering, ensure of how to properly articulate his uncertainty and anxiety towards having to confront one of the Van der Linde men just to be an escort. It was ridiculous really.

Hosea gave another smile. “Of course, you only need to ask one and I’m sure they’ll assist in some way…more or less.”

“Ain’t they gonna…um…get a lil’ angry and all? I ain’t really close to any of them…”

“Not even Arthur?”

Kieran’s eyes inadvertently shot up to look directly into Hosea’s observing eyes, intimidated by the man all of the sudden.

“W-Wa What do yer mean?” He squeaked, unable to control the octave of his vocals.

“Well, surely you two bonded at least a little,” Hosea presumed, resting back into his chair. “I mean…I am the first to know that Arthur ain’t the sort to be into…conversation. He is a very reserved man.”

Kieran nodded. “Sure is, Mister…I mean…If I say so myself.”

“Yes.” Hosea paused for a moment, seeming to scan everything within Kieran. “After your return, he was very adamant about talking about how well you shot that deer. He is very proud of you, I can say.”

Kieran blushed at once, throat getting caught halfway on a breath. “Proud? I wouldn’t say that, sir. He never said so otherwise”

“Well. Arthur is not the type to express what he feels…guess a consequence of spending time around misfits like Dutch and myself.” Hosea, grabbed his newspaper and unfolded it. “I assure you, I can tell he enjoyed that trip you were on.”

“I doubt that…” Kieran looked to the ground, feeling his typical self-loathe eat away at his giddiness.

“In any case,” Hosea finally said, his attention gradually adverting back into the weekly news. “Arthur…just seems different. A good different.”

“If…if you say so, Mr. Matthews.”

“Now, he is in his tent right now. Just ask him to ride with you. I’m sure he won’t mind”

He paused for a moment, looking up from his newspaper. His stare into Kieran gave the younger man a moment to introspect how exposed he was to this wise man. “At all…”

With that, he continued his reading, Kieran wondering for a moment what it must have been like to be able to attain a large slab of text and formulate it into legible words to give way for sentences. His mother was very hopeful that he would take up reading. Though those days were long gone when he was robbed of that possibility; Reading was a privilege among humans.

“Thank you,” Kieran said quietly, receiving a small smile from Hosea, too occupied to look up.

Walking to Arthur’s tent, Kieran became aware of every step he made towards the other man. Each contraction of his muscles throughout his body and his posture. The afternoon sun’s rays nip at the edges of his skin, making the air around him stuffy and uncomfortable. His heartbeat steadily increased and reaching the boundary of the tent, he suddenly felt out of breath. He knew at once, with quite familiarity, that he was nervous. He was not particularly sure why, though it probably had something to do with the man looking at him was a confused, and yet somewhat concern gaze.

“Kieran?” Arthur said, holding a pencil and his journal, seemingly midway through some entry or perhaps an illustration.

“U-uh Hi Mister Arthur…” Kieran began, noticing the older man’s slight tilt of his head. He forgot why he walked over in the first place. “Uh…What are yer doing?”

“Just doing some sketches is all,” Arthur responded, beginning to close his journal.

“Oh…Sorry I interrupted you,” Kieran said. “I-I can go now.”

“What you mean?” Arthur said, his subtle smile forming. “You just got here.”

“Oh…right.” Kieran felt as stupid as ever.

They were both silent for a moment, hearing Pearson and Sadie having a verbal toss of insults in the background. A lovely ambience.

 “C-can I look at ya sketch?” Kieran asked suddenly.

Arthur looked a little shocked suddenly and coughed.

“Uh…uh N-Never in a million years, boy,” in a swift motion he tucked away his journal in his satchel nearby. Kieran would have been foolish to notice the reddening of Arthur’s face. Understandable. A journal would contain the most intrinsic and meaningful thoughts of a person; what they really felt.

“I…I’m sorry, Arthur,” Kieran said quickly. “It was rude of me to ask. S…sorry.”

Arthur chuckled lightly and smiled. “Don’t worry about, Kieran.”

He paused for a moment, looking at his hands. Kieran followed with the same; he always hated moments of awkwardness with this man. He wondered if Arthur felt the same, or perhaps he appreciated the golden silence. Perhaps Kieran should as well.

“Mm…” Arthur began, fidgeting a little with his fingers. He seemed nervous. “Maybe of these days I could show you a few sketches…or somethin’.”

Kieran’s face produced a beaming grin. His insides had that fluttery sensation. Arthur’s face shifted into a smile as well, seemingly shocked by Kieran’s appreciation.

“They…they are shit drawings anyway,” Arthur quickly suggested.

“Naw, I think they’ll be pretty,” Kieran encouraged.

Arthur looked down, anther subtle blush filling his cheeks.

They were both silent again.

“The reason I actually came here,” Kieran started. “Was to ask if you’d mind taking me to a nearby river.”

Arthur looked back up at Kieran, confusion blatantly etched among his features.

“I need to get myself cleaned up!” Kieran quickly interjected, his heartbeat rising.

Arthur just raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I-I mean…” Kieran felt out of breath. “I mean I would like to bathe a little before tonights…uh party…And I would appreciate if you would be ma escort, if that’d be alright with yer.”

Kieran looked away from Arthur’s further confusion and just began walked backwards, ready to leave the situation with physical distance.

“I mean…How else will ya be sure I ain’t gonna run with the O’Driscolls again?” He yelped, his voice breaking one or two octaves higher than necessary.

Arthur shook his head and laughed. “You boy are sure a weird one.”

Kieran stopped his measured steps away from Arthur’s tent and looked at the man again, noticing he was standing up.

“I would not mind it at all, Kieran.”

“Wait, really?” Kieran said, a smile on his face.

“Yeah, really,” Arthur confirmed, putting his satchel on and his hat. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

He walked outside his tent and past Kieran, gesturing him to follow towards their horses.

“Besides, you stink,” he jested.

“Well, you ain’t smelling like a daisy either, Mister,” Kieran laughed quickly following along with a giddy attitude springing forth deep inside.

\--

Their prompt ride towards Dakota River was a pleasant one, mostly comprising silence, although enjoyable to Kieran.

“So Arthur,” Kieran began, looking at the other man, the golden light gleaming behind him and reminding him of how beautiful the man was. “W…what is your favourite food to eat?”

“What sort of question is that?” Arthur asked, amused. Kieran blushed and looked away, focusing intently on Branwen’s mane. “Well, I don’t know. Probably steak. Chocolate's pretty good as well.”

Kieran looked back and grinned.

“Chocolate?”

“Does that count?”

“Sure does, Arthur. I love chocolate.” Kieran noticed the smile forming Arthur’s face. “Though, I haven’t had any in many a year.”

“Well now,” Arthur began, his words measured, though with a hint of uncertainty. “Maybe when I am out again in town, I can maybe buy you some…maybe…if you want.”

“Arthur, you really shouldn’t.” Kieran’s heart began to thump roughly against his chest, aching. “D-Don’t go wasting your money on someone like me now.”

He chuckled nervously, only for Arthur to give a small huff of frustration.

“I’ll waste my money however I like, boy,” Arthur remarked. “Besides, “someone like you”, what’s that ‘spose to mean?”

“Ugh…I…you know…you should bother with a nobody O’Driscoll like myself…sir…” Kieran suddenly felt a little cold inside; his self-depreciation knew no bounds.

Arthur’s smile formed into a small frown. “You shouldn’t think yourself like that Kieran…” They both practise silence for a few long moments.

“And…I wanna apologise for calling you O’Driscoll since we arrived back at camp,” Arthur said, his tone sombre and sincere; a juxtaposition from his usual snide remarks laced with satire. “I…I…I really have nothing of an excuse.”

Kieran’s coldness was immediately subdued by an unknown sensation of warmth, something he forgot he could feel, though he really could not classify it into a singular description.

“Don’t worry, Arthur,” he forgave. “I…really appreciate you telling me that.”

Arthur looked at Kieran and gave his warm smile, before being distracted by something ahead of them.

“And here we are.”

Kieran noticed the sound of rushing water, passing various obstacles comprising smoothed-out rocks and fallen tree trunks.

Dakota river was a wash of colour, with streaks of varying oranges, reds, yellows, and blue, harmonising with each other to fulfil a perfect reflection of the sky. Kieran was surprised such an afternoon could exist. He felt blessed he could experience such a moment. He also noticed the occasional splash and glint of fish scales in the sunlight.

“Damn,” he exclaimed. “Should’a brought our fishing gear.”

“Well, I ain’t much of a fisherman, but I’d say this is a beautiful spot,” Arthur agreed.

They hitched and dismounted their horses near the river bank, only a few paces away from the water’s edge

“So…guess I’ll go in now?” Kieran questioned, only now realising how awkward this will be.

“Yeah, you go wash up and I’ll…uh…just be here,” Arthur explained, sitting by the tree where the horses were hitched and pulling out of journal.

Kieran nodded and walked over to Branwen. Without another thought, he began removing his coat and undershirt. His skin exposed to the raw sunlight felt exhilarating, yet also reminded him how exposed he was. Continuing on, he removed his pants, their roughness against his skin and their stubbornness to be removed nearly causing him to trip.

Once he was down to his underwear, he hesitated for a moment.

Living in a camp, everyone was bound to see each other naked eventually, this also being the case for Kieran and Arthur. He remembered the first time he saw Arthur getting changed from his tent, he never felt so flustered before. He tired his best not to look at the man for too long out of respect, and thankfully Arthur was a fast clothes changer. However, now they were alone, Kieran was incredibly nervous.

Without a second thought, he removed his underwear, the open-air biting at his crotch, though the sense of freedom being somewhat of a relief. He could see all the scratches and injuries he gained from the hunting trip, though at least they were properly treated now.

He began walking towards the water’s edge before he heard Arthur.

“What in the hell?” Kieran froze and turned his head to Arthur. “Why the hell are you…you naked?”

“Uhh…I-I-I…I am gonna wash?” Kieran was incredulous, as much as Arthur. The older man had plain sight of Kieran’s ass and the younger man had never been more embarrassed in his life.

“ _What the fuck is happening_?” Kieran screamed in his head.

“I-I will get changed again,” Kieran said, walking awkwardly backwards to avoid plain view of his dick.

“No..no…” Arthur sighed, his face incredibly red, almost as much as Kieran. “It’s my bad…I just thought you were gonna just take a quick dip and…uh…G-Go ahead and wash up. I’ll just be here, minding my own business.”

“Uh…” Kieran’s head was full of air and he felt he was going to faint any moment. “Okay then.”

He continued his walk into the river, the coolness and freshness of the water ignored as Kieran felt his heart still beat as though he ran a mile race.

He eventually was submerged to the chest in the water, surprised the water was this deep. He sighed in relief. The water seemed to have been adequately heated, enough that the coldness of the water was not unbearable. Dunking his head underwater, he enjoyed the particular moments of silence, the water filling his ear canals and the buoyancy force making him feel weightless.

Rising to the surface again, the sunlight’s rays shorn in his eyes, accentuating the returning giddiness in his heart.

Kieran looked over to Arthur’s figure, who was focused intently on his journal, like usual. He was glad Arthur seemed to not mind too much about the whole ‘naked’ commotion.

Arthur noticed Kieran’s stare and looked away, tilting his head slightly.

“What you looking at?”

“Oh, nothing,” Kieran said, smiling, surprisingly not nervous. “Just minding my own business.”

“I see. You seem like you are enjoying yourself.”

“I am. Haven’t had a swim like this in quite a while.”

They were both silent, before Kieran asked him an aching question, not meaning to actually convey it verbally.

“Would you wanna come in?”

Arthur stared at Kieran and his mouth was parted. He seemed to be on the brink of absolute incredulity. Kieran was just silent and frozen in place, awaiting an answer. He honestly had no way to extrapolate on what actions were to follow. If Arthur were to say no, what would happen? And if, the odds were unarguably against this, he were to say yes, what then? What would that mean?

Arthur’s mouth formed into a shape that seemed prepared to say something, but he then stopped. At once, he looked down at his journal and gave the most subtle of a smile, before closing his journal.

“You know what,” he said finally. “Fuck it.”

Kieran watched in awe as Arthur removed his shirt, gun belt and pants. Before long, he was walking rather awkwardly towards the water and Kieran, he dick all out to view. Kieran felt his own get excited slightly, glad no one was aware of such a thing. The other man’s body was husky and well-built, nothing short of what Kieran expected from a man like him. He could not believe this was happening.

Now both of them in the water and floating in close proximity, Kieran felt incredibly nervous.

“Uh…that was unexpected, huh?” Kieran said, followed by Arthur laughing nervously.

“Yeah, did not expect this to turn out like… _this_ ,” he said, looking around constantly to ensure no onlookers were aware of what they were doing.

“I mean,” Kieran suggested. “I’ve never done this before, but it is nice to not be alone doing this.”

“Yeah,” the older man agreed. “I guess you’re right.”

They were floating for a while longer before Arthur dunked his head under water. He surfaced again and gasped for air.

“Damn, the water sure feels nice.”

They floated for a while longer before Arthur and Kieran locked eyes and were silent.

“Um…Arthur,” Kieran breathed, moving closer to the other.

“Hm?”

“I just wanted to say that trip...I really enjoyed that trip. It was probably the best time I have had in many years."

"Even the part where you almost get eaten by a wolf?"

"Especially that!" Kieran laughed. "I really, really appreciate you taking care of me. I really appreciate you teaching me how to handle a gun decently."

"Naw...you're always welcome," Arthur muttered, smiling.

"In truth...I have something else to say," Kieran whispered, his heart beating wildly.

"I…I know what you said from before about…that…that kiss and all during our hunting trip. I just wanted to say…I…despite all my efforts and all my attempts…I still have these feelings for you. I still- “

“Kieran,” Arthur said sternly, rubbing his eyes. “I…I don’t have feelings for you…I…I _don’t_ like men.”

“But what are you doing here then? Do you just see me as a friend?”

“I guess…” Arthur suddenly appeared highly uncomfortable. “Look, I really appreciate your affection for me…I really think it’s nice to know someone in this cruel world actually likes me for God knows what reason, but Kieran, I…we can’t…”

“I u-understand, Arthur,” Kieran began. “B-But-“

“No, dumbass! I don’t think yer do!” Arthur put his hands on Kieran’s shoulders firmly while they both floated in the gradually cooling water. “I don’t…God…why, Kieran?”

“I don’t understand what you-?” Kieran was flabbergasted, shivering out of fear and coldness.

“Goddamnit! What the hell am I doing?” Arthur sighed heavily and let go of Kieran. “I'm...I’m going back.”

“What?”

Before his eyes, Kieran watched at Arthur walked out of the river, his dick hard and upright. Kieran was so confused, his vision obscured by the last few rays of sunlight escaping the horizon. He followed Arthur, highly ashamed of his own body and everything he was. Kieran hated himself. He despised the very culmination of everything he was.

They both quickly got changed, not bothering to dry off, thus their clothes adhered to their bodies like glue. Cold and uncomfortable, they both rode back in a hurried fashion to camp.

Tears collected in Kieran’s eyes, wishing he would just die. The wind whistled pass his ears, unforgiving as it seeped through his damp clothes and froze his skin. He only looked once at the gunslinger paces ahead of him, the man’s face hidden from view. Arthur was a strange man, that all Kieran could think off.

They both arrived at camp and without a moment of farewell, Arthur walked away briskly towards his tent. With the sun’s light being replaced by the moon’s, the campsite was slowly buzzing party excitement, members laughing and preparing booze. Yet, with his heart broken and unsure of everything, Kieran gave Branwen a soft pat and walked behind a large boulder, sitting down and hugging his legs tightly, wishing it could be someone else. 

Hidden from the rest of the world and with only his thoughts and the distant singing from the camp fire, Kieran shuddered as he silently cried his heart out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that is that. I hope you liked it. Please comment below your thoughts. Please please please! It would make me real happy! Thank you and I hope to see you soon enough for the next chapter!


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